Smoke And Mirrors
by itsmyriot
Summary: Severus and Hermione cross paths one night, setting off the most unlikely of relationships. Can they find a way to a happy ending or will their pride only manage to destroy everything?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Hermione Granger was not, by anyone's standards, a lush. That Friday afternoon while she was at work, however, an owl had brought news of a broken engagement - hers - and she had quickly made up her mind that drinking herself into a state of oblivion was far more admissable than crying. Oh no, she would be damned if she let herself shed a single tear over the likes of Ronald fucking Weasley, who hadn't even had the decency to tell her face to face.

The worst part of it was that she had been completely blindsided. Sure, their five-year relationship had had its ups and downs, but which relationship was perfect? Hadn't they always managed to talk through any differences they had, making it work? Besides, they had returned from a weekend sojourn at a charming bed-and-breakfast in the west end of Glasgow only a few days ago. On the trip, Ron had been his usual self and nothing had seemed out of the ordinary to her: they had enjoyed their meals together, made love tenderly, taken leisurely walks, held each other's hands, visited the attractions in the area... and now he was telling her that he wasn't all that into it, and hadn't actually been for a long time? Screw. Him.

She had headed home and for a quick change, before heading to the pub where she promptly began working her way through as many types of alcoholic beverages as she could. By a quarter past ten, she was well on her way to being properly inebriated; she had lost count of the drinks she'd had after the eighth concoction. She was just contemplating a little visit to Ron's apartment to tell him exactly what she thought of him when she became aware of someone towering over her. She turned and glared at the person who dared interrupt her private little pity party and found that she dimly recognized him. It was only fully registered when the stranger addressed her:

"Getting plastered solo in a bar, albeit a muggle one, doesn't seem particularly judicious - especially for you, Miss Granger."

"You!" Her stupefaction could not have been more apparent.

Severus Snape sneered, both at her expression and her alcohol-induced slur. "You might have had a little too much, don't you think?"

Hermione bristled, not in the mood to be patronized. "Yeah? What do you know?" she challenged. "And just who do you think you are, telling me what to do?" she added acidly, before pointedly downing the rest of her mojito.

Amused at having gotten her riled up so easily, his only response was to smirk.

Then, uninvited, he settled in the chair next to hers. Incensed, Hermione exhaled in a loud huff and crossing her arms over her chest. Ignoring her feeble attempt at protest, he waved a waitress over before ordering the next two rounds for both of them, belying his last comment. As she watched this turn of events, Hermione considered simply getting up and leaving but in truth, she was a little intrigued; here was a man who had all but disappeared from the eye of the British wizarding world.

_Fine, _she finally decided, her expression surly, _let him sit here as he pleases - but if he thinks I'm going to be any proximation of good company, he'll be sorely disappointed. _

However, Snape had not deigned to inquire why his ex-student and one of the brightest witches he had ever encountered was embroiled in an obvious attempt to drown her sorrows. In fact, if pressed, Hermione would admit that she honestly could not remember if any more words had been exchanged between over their drinks. They had simply sat knocking back the next few rounds in relatively companionable silence for which Hermione was loathe to admit she was grateful for: the pitiful sight she had surely made while binge-drinking earlier was further compounded by going at it solo. So despite her burgeoning curiosity about what Severus Snape was doing in a muggle bar himself, she had not pried any details from him either.

Instead, she contented herself by observing him out of the corner of her eye. His lank hair was slightly longer than it was when he had been at Hogwarts, and he was dressed inconspicuously in a black turtleneck sweater and dark blue jeans. The casual look was a far cry his all-black, dressed-to-intimidate look from her schooldays, although she rather thought it suited him. To her eye, he looked healthier and his face not quite as gaunt as it had been when she had last seen him - on trial for the murder of Albus Dumbledore for which he had been acquitted. She had never quite noticed before, but in such proximity, he seemed to exude a certain sense of mystery and charisma. In fact, she was more than a little surprised to see a few women cast flirtatious looks his way, although he seemed ignorant of the attention. Whatever Severus Snape had been doing for himself these few years, it was obviously good for him.

It was just after 2 am when she finally stumbled out onto the sidewalk, leaning rather heavily on him for support. Without so much as a goodbye or a parting wave, she had turned and was starting to walk in the opposite direction when he jerked on her arm.

"You're in no shape to Apparate," he stated, looking and sounding impressively sober. "I'll send you home."

"I'm fine," snapped Hermione, tugging her arm out of his grip and immediately losing her footing.

Snape grabbed her by the shoulders and narrowed his eyes. "Where do you live?" he growled, making it clear he would not take no for an answer.

Rolling her eyes, she told him.

In a few moments, they were at her door, his hand at the small of her back for support as she fumbled with her keys. As the door swung open, her keys slipped from her grasp. She snatched it up, realizing belatedly that her dress was maybe just a _little_ too short to be carelessly bending over. Straightening up, she glanced at him and confirmed he had gotten an eyeful: his lips had parted in surprise, his eyes wide and glassy.

There was a pause and then they were moving towards each other like magnets. Their mouths met in a heated kiss, his adroit hands immediately exploring, warm and insistent on her pliant body.

They barely made it to her room.

Hermione was struck by the rather surreal situation only as he was sliding into her, a guttural groan escaping his lips. He began to move his hips rapidly, inciting her to buck wildly against him, fuelled by her simmering anger and humiliation from having being dumped through _owl_. At the back of her mind, she acknowledged a sort of satisfaction as she imagined what her ex-fiancé would say if he could see her now, shagging his least favorite teacher back at school.

A few minutes later, these vindictive thoughts were replaced by a different kind of gratification as she gasped and dug her nails into his back, her vision erupting into a blinding flash of light.

She had barely caught her breath when he jerked away from her. He reached out and deftly maneuvered her, positioning her on all fours before gripping her waist and plunging back in. She cried out involuntarily before recovering and moving back against him to meet his thrusts. It wasn't long before she was riding out another orgasm, her breath catching in her throat and fists clutching the sheets so hard her knuckles turned white. His own climax followed soon after; he grabbed her hair as he hissed through his teeth. Then, he collapsed heavily next to her and, sated from the sex and drowsy from the drinks imbibed earlier, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

When she awoke the next day, she found herself alone. Realistically, she had no expections of seeing him but she found herself distracted at work more than once, mentally replaying the unexpected night she'd had. It had been unlike anything she had ever experienced with Ron and if she was being completely honest, a part of her wanted an encore. So when she answered a knock at her door two nights later to find him leaning rather nonchalantly against the doorframe, a bottle of Merlot in hand and an eyebrow cocked questioningly, she let him in.

And so they had fallen into an unspoken arrangement for the next two months.

Both of them dispensed with the pretence of being friends but were cordial enough. Their exchanges were confined to analyzing news articles, discussing the latest acadamic journals or recommending literary material. Otherwise, their conversations included no more than a few perfunctory details such as the business he had established after his convalescence, although she had no idea what his specific dealings were, and she had mentioned her volunteer sessions at St Mungo's once or twice.

Then at the end of September, a thirty-something banker employed by a newly-established subsidiary of Gringott's, approached Hermione as she was leaving the establishment after having settled a few transactions and asked her out to dinner. After Flooing him to update him of the newest development in her life, Severus' visits had ceased and like before, she hadn't expected to hear from him.

Thus, the reason for her distress this morning was unmitigated. The day before was Halloween and she had come home from a wonderful trick-or-treating date with Klaus, whom she'd been seeing for a few weeks by now, to find _him_ sitting on steps up to her house in a maudlin mood, his breath reeking of liquor.

In high spirits from her date, she had invited him in against her better judgement. Furthermore, she was well aware of the significance of the day and had thought he could do with some company, maybe even opening up if he needed to. Instead, he had ignored the cup of tea she placed on the table before them and remained staring sullenly at the wall above her fireplace. Her good mood and patience had worn down after nearly twenty-five minutes of trying to coax him to talk to her and she had risen from the sofa in annoyance.

She turned on her heel and was about to stomp off to bed when he had grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into his lap. In one swift motion, his lips closed down on hers, desperately seeking comfort. She had instinctively responded to the kiss, her hands going up to cup his face.

By the time a voice in her head reminded her of a certain blonde banker with whom things were going quite well, she became aware of the dampness seeping between her fingers. She pulled back and gazed at the silent tears trickling down his face, astounded at his emotional display. Her heart reacting on her behalf at his unfamiliar expression of vulnerability, she had drawn him into her arms and kissed the man who had lived almost unflinchingly through the Dark Lord's terror twice but could not vanquish his personal demons.

Now, in the cold light of the morning after, the impact of what they had done was hitting her. She was furious. She glared unseeingly at the roof of her four-poster bed, trying to calm her thoughts. He had been aware of her relationship - she had made it clear to him that Klaus was a real thing - and he had crossed the line! Granted, she wasn't entirely blameless, having allowed him to push her back into the sofa cushions, slide the hem of her nurse's costume up and take her... but _really_, didn't he know better?

She sat up abruptly in bed and shoved his arm off his face. "Severus! Wake up!" she hissed.

Severus emitted a growl at having his sleep interrupted as he turned and squinted up at her. "_What_?"

"What are you doing?"

His expression bordered on incredulous. "What?" he repeated.

"I mean, this - last night... you, in my bed", she could barely conceal the rising hysteria in her voice. "_Klaus_."

Severus shrugged. "He doesn't have to know," he answered, as if it was the most obvious answer, and closed his eyes.

Hermione gave him another shove. "That's not the point! This, this isn't what we - _I_ do, and you know it."

"Do I?" He glared at her, all traces of sleep gone. Hermione's cheeks flamed at his insinuation. "And so what? What do you want me to say? It's done."

"So what? _I'm seeing someone!_" she sputtered "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Severus expression was a blank mask. His unspoken _No_ hung in the air between them, taunting and defiant.

Hermione's guilt was irrepressible. "Promise me it won't happen again, Severus. I can't do this otherwise."

"Do what, exactly? Pity-fuck me behind your boyfriend's back?" he sneered. Then, acutely feeling his own shame at having cried in front of her the night before, he spat out, "Don't be obnoxious," before swinging his legs neatly off bed and stalking out of the room.

"Bastard," she muttered angrily, getting out of bed herself and stomping into the bathroom.

He knew what she meant and he was being deliberately odious. They had both understood that hooking up the past few months had been a conveniently-presented opportunity for indulgence and distraction. Now that she was in a relationship, however, she expected him to know the limit. Him seeking her out in a drunken state while morose and clearly lonely, and making a move on her far bypassed any semblance of boundaries. Hermione repressed a shiver. Not for the first time since Ron left her, she wasn't sure she knew who she was anymore.

As she got ready for work, she decided she would not tell her boyfriend. The night before had strictly been a one-off thing and what he didn't know couldn't possibly hurt him, right? Determined, she resolved not to let it happen again.

* * *

Two nights later, Hermione found herself strolling along the Thames after a lovely dinner with Klaus, admiring the lights from the cruises and buildings reflected in the water. She had always loved London. It reminded her of jaunts in the bustling city with her parents when she was younger, bringing to mind the idyllic days of her childhood: trips to numerous renown eating places, visiting established book stores and catching plays at the theatre.

On that particular Saturday evening, the air was a little chilly and she would have regretted her choice of attire - a white eyelet sundress with a bright vermillion cardigan and sandals - if not for the fact that she could do magic; whenever the cold became a little unbearable, she would surreptitiously cast a warming spell. Her date, having succumbed to being swathed in a woolen scarf, had been rather amused at her ingenuity.

Feeling a little tipsy from the wine Klaus had plied her with earlier, she impulsively paused by a streetlight and leaned over the barrier to wave back at one of the tourists when he put an arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. Hermione reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him lesisurely. She hadn't felt quite as contented in awhile.

She was just getting lost in the taste of the moscato on his tongue when he pulled back and murmurred, "Shall we go back to mine?"

Hermione hesitated. They had not crossed that milestone in their relationship yet, and while it had only been a month, Klaus seemed like a personable, intelligent man and she like dhis company a lot. However, she was still feeling the pangs of conscience from her recent tumble with Severus and the thought of jumping into bed with Klaus right now seemed a little crass.

_As if you being fuck buddies with Severus is any smarter_, a snarky voice in her head whispered. She blinked at how unnervingly close that voice sounded like the person she was thinking about and felt uncomfortable.

Quickly, she pushed all thoughts of the acerbic man aside. She lifted up her chin and kissed Klaus, her warm breath coming out in a _yes_ against his lips. He circled an arm around her waist and Apparated to his apartment where, without further ado, they got down to shedding all their clothes and climbing into Klaus' bed.

In no time, Hermione was on her back with her fingers tangled in Klaus' hair, her breathing getting more labored as he kissed and licked a trail from her mouth down to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. He finally made it down to the curve of her hip when the image of herself from a few nights ago popped into her head: she was straddling Severus on her couch, her hands skimming over her own breasts, riding him into oblivion. The guilt overwhelmed her again. _This wasn't right_ - if she went through with this, she would be a terrible person. Moreover, she knew firsthand what being cheated on felt like; could she really inflict it on someone else?

She sat up abruptly, simultaneously pushing Klaus away. "I'm so sorry, I've got to go," she mumbled. "I can't do this."

Ignoring the hurt and confusion in his eyes, she gathered up her undergarments, and stuffed them haphazardly into her purse before throwing on her white sundress and light cardigan in quick succession.

"Is it me?" he managed to say before she left.

Hermione paused in the doorway, biting her lip nervously although he only saw the tense line of her back. "No, of course not," she said quickly. Then, without a backward glance, she rushed out into the street, shivering slightly.

She walked aimlessly down a few blocks, her thoughts a jumble, before finally finding a deserted alley. Glancing over her shoulder to ascertain no one was watching, she turned once, disapparating. When she opened her eyes, she was only half-surprised to find herself staring into the unseeing eyes of a brass knocker in the shape of a serpent. She lifted a fist to rap against the door.

Severus answered after she knocked none-too-gently a few times, and when he saw it was her, his nettled expression rearranged into that of a sardonic nature. Under his scrutiny, Hermione felt like an open book and she had to consciously refrain from flinching. Her despair that the sudden turn of events the night wrought was evident on her face and it didn't take long for him to put two and two together.

"Already?" he smirked.

"Shut up," she snapped, the ire in her voice discernable. "You know this is your fault."

He crossed his arms over his chest in his dissent. "Is it?"

"You can be such an arsehole," she mumbled before leaning forward, one hand grabbing him by the collar, the other snaking down to undo his belt. "But I just want to forget."

They made it as far as his kitchen table.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi there, I hope everyone's still on board with me! (: Here's this week's chapter! x

**Chapter 2**

At the sound of the doorbell, Hermione waved her wand and all the tealight candles she had spent the past ten minutes arranging around her sitting room lit up. Smoothing down the long paisley skirt she wore, she made her way to the front door and threw it open. Standing there clutching a paper bag to her chest and grinning widely was Ginny Weasley.

"Hello, stranger!" she exclaimed, moving into Hermione's outstretched arms.

Unmindful of the package in her friend's arms, she gave the red-head a crushing hug. Ginny's greeting was not quite an exaggeration; the girls had not seen each other since before Ron and Hermione's break-up. The youngest Weasley had been caught up with Quidditch training for the upcoming season and was currently in the midst planning for her upcoming nuptials as well - this was a rare break for her.

"I made pizza," Hermione announced, taking the paper bag and leading the way into the kitchen.

Ginny, well acquainted with Hermione's culinary skills (or lack thereof), was not fooled for a moment. "You mean you "made" instant pizza, right?"

Hermione laughed and had the good grace to look abashed. "You caught me," she admitted. She glanced down at the paper bag she held. "What did you bring?"

"Mum insisted on sending along some peach cobbler and there's a bottle of champagne," she answered.

Ginny brought the pizza to the living room while Hermione pulled the bottle of bubbly out. "Champagne? What's the occasion?" Grabbing a couple of flutes and an ice bucket from the cupboard, she joined Ginny on the sofa.

"Nothing," shrugged Ginny. "That bottle is from a crate Fred brought to Grimmauld Place awhile back - one of his big clients sent it as thanks - but I don't get to indulge when training season is on. Besides, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up anyway - I heard from Harry your work's piling up at the Ministry."

Hermione nodded as she tapped the edge of the ice bucket with her wand until it filled with the right amount of ice. Satisfied, she set the bottle in it to chill.

"All the heads of departments are breathing down everyone's necks right now because of the recent imbroglio with the Belgian ministry, but my boss is especially high-strung - he wants us to submit our reports ay-sap so he can go over them personally before sending them to the American ministry... and they'll be closing soon for Thanksgiving! On top of that, we're supposed to try to get all our presentations for a temporary wizarding expat settlement in Brussels over before Christmas." Hermione exhaled heavily, extending a plate to Ginny. "It's almost impossible."

Ginny tutted sympathetically. "Your work stories never fail to make me thankful that I don't have to deal with any paperwork or bureaucratic redtape. I think I'd lose my mind within a week and start hexing all those poncy officials and their subordinates. I imagine it would be like having to work with Percy - only much worse," she suppressed a shudder. "Well, if anyone can survive the pressure, it's you," she said sincerely.

"Thanks. We're just so snowed under, one of my colleagues has taken to saying that if we manage to sort things out by Thanksgiving, she'll never be more grateful for anything else again." Hermione settled back into the sofa, curling her legs under her as she took a bite out of her pizza. "And what have you been up to?" she enquired.

"The usual," Ginny shrugged. "Right now we're training the new beaters and substitute players and I'm officially up to my eyeballs with organizing the wedding. I mean, it's a lot harder than it really should be because, well, you know my mother. _Ginevra, you only get married once; it should be really special! Or, you should let Fleur give you a hand - you know she's kind enough and more than willing_."

The red-head's impression of the Weasley matriarch was spot on and Hermione let out a laugh, a piece of pineapple flying out of her mouth and landing on the couch in between them. She promptly murmured Evanesco under her breath, Vanishing it.

"Even if I end up having to get married barefeet in a potato sack and serving our guests broth, I'm not letting Phlegm anywhere near the planning. Funny thing is, Harry's also gotten rather caught up in it and you know he usually clocks out when it comes to these things. At this point now, I'm so tired with chosing the flowers for the aisles, the table centrepieces, the bouquet - coordinating the napkins to the flowers and whatnot. Does anyone notice, really?

"Sometimes when mum's going on about something like the first dance or whatever and I start feeling particularly annoyed, I feel like telling her that Harry and I will just elope. Or announcing that the wedding's off after all, like -" Ginny stopped talking abruptly, realizing her faux pas. The future Mrs Potter wanted nothing more at that moment than to jump in front of a speeding bludger. "Oh my God, Hermione, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said too quickly, trying to smile and shrug it off but Ginny could read her friend better than that.

"No, seriously, could I have been more tactless?" said Ginny, wincing. "Enough with the wedding - how have you been, really?"

Hermione felt an unbidden lump form in her throat and froze mid-chew. It seemed like a loaded question that could easily lead to _other_ loaded questions, and she wasn't sure if she was capable of answering her friend without bursting into tears or hurling things at the wall.

"Hermione?" Ginny prodded. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just want to know how you're coping, at least."

Hermione swalllowed and shook her head. "No, it's all right. I'm sorry. I mean, I knew it would come up tonight, I don't know why I'm as surprised as I am."

She put her plate down and reached for the champagne, not caring that it probably wasn't even properly chilled yet. She swiftly poured it out and gulped everything down at once. Remembering her manners, she grabbed her wand off the table and gave it a wave that could only be described as haphazard, causing the bottle to rise into the air and move towards the second glass. It missed its mark by a wide margin, causing a splash of champagne to spill into her lap. It took another couple of tries before she managed to properly direct and tip the bottle over Ginny's flute. After a hasty _Evanesco_ to remove the spill, she refilled her own glass and leaned into the cushions, a contemplative look stealing over her face.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I was fine," she said slowly, "but I have found ways to deal with it."

"Is that so? You mean you haven't been withdrawing from all your friends and throwing yourself into work?"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Ginny cut her off, "Harry's genuinely concerned, you know. He says you rarely let him drop by and you never visit Grimmauld Place anymore. Plus, you almost never reply to his letters. You've been avoiding."

"That's not true," said Hermione immediately although without any real conviction.

"Really? What do you call what you've been doing then? It sounds like you're still wallowing and you know it."

Indignation rose up in Hermione. "Well, I was seeing someone -" she started, before realizing her mistake.

"Was?" Ginny quirked an eyebrow.

Oops. Hermione poured out more champagne for herself and threw back half the contents of her glass. "We just had, uh, too many, differences. We talked, it didn't work out - we broke up."

"Hermione, you need to try and move on and charging into another relationship is not what I mean. Have you even started packing up Ron's things?" She looked at Hermione with her eyebrows raised. "You're not spiteful enough to just toss it all out, but you haven't sent it back either. I know because I overheard that bugger whinging the other night about how he really needs his lucky sweater back."

Finally, Hermione dropped her gaze. "The truth is, I'm not sure I've even fully processed what happened."

Right after having dumped her, Ron had dropped any pretense of discretion. If not for Harry taking it upon himself to break it to her after Ron had brought his new girlfriend round to Harry's place, she might not have appeared as nonchalant as she had been when her colleagues and even the staff from a few of the neighboring departments, learned the news. Whenever anyone had taken her hand or touched her arm and murmurred words of support, she had shrugged as if it was merely a small annoyance, akin to misplacing her house keys, the nonchalant expression on her face never wavering. Her self-possessed manner was only a facade though; she was still given to waking up in the middle of the night on occasion, her heart twisting and clenching in her chest in a most disagreeable manner.

Now, in front of one of her oldest friends, the affectation that came so easily to her in front of strangers was harder to pull off. The truth was, she had loved Ron with all her heart for years only to find it coming to this. Still, having her devotion flung back into her face was nothing compared to the way he had spectacularly deceived and betrayed her. Whenever she thought back to the vacation they had taken just before he thrown everything away, she still felt the slowburn of humiliation at how obtuse she had been. Then, parading that floozy around already was practically twisting the knife in deeper and rubbing her face in it - his treachery was complete.

"Hermione!" Ginny's alarmed voice came to her from a distance.

Blinking, she realized hot tears were streaming down her face. She accepted the napkin Ginny proffered and swiped at her face, angry at herself for having broken down.

Ginny had put her own plate down and scooted over, putting her arms comfortingly around Hermione. Unable to stanch the tears which were coming steadily now, she leaned into her friend's embrace as her body heaved with the sobs that were coming freely.

When Hermione finally lifted her head from Ginny's shoulder, her face was puffy and her eyes were blodshot.

"I'm so sorry for going to pieces like that," she rasped, scrubbing her face with her hands.

"Rubbish, no need to apologize," said Ginny briskly. The redhead summoned two glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey that she knew Hermione kept stashed in the cupboard under the sink for times just like this and poured out a generous amount for the both of them.

The girls sat without speaking for a few minutes, the silence broken only by the ice clinking when either of them sipped their drinks. Their dinner lay forgotten on the table.

"You know," Hermione said slowly, "I think that that was the first time I've let myself cry since - since Ron and I..."

Ginny's eyes were saucers. "You're kidding."

Hermione shrugged. "I guess I've been holding it all in and telling myself that someone like that wasn't worth the tears. I didn't want to talk to anyone because I'd convinced myself that I was fine."

"I guess now you know," said Ginny

"That's true," Hermione conceeded. "But now what?"

"Let yourself grieve. It's normal to feel sad and angry and everything in between right now, so just go with it. Then whenever you feel you're up to it, start packing up his things - and everything that reminds you of him," here, she glanced at a picture on the mantle, "instead of leaving them out where they'll constantly make you think of what happened."

Hermione couldn't help but privately wonder if there was something wrong with her. When the brightest witch of her age could handle all the demands of a high pressure career but couldn't even sort out her own personal life, was it any surprise that she was single again? Maybe, she thought, after all was said and done, she was as emotionally handicapped as she had proclaimed Ron himself to be all those years ago.

* * *

When Ginny left a few hours later, Hermione sat on the floor of her bedroom with a cup of tea and sizeable stack of photos which chronicled her relationship with Ron. It was time to let herself grieve. As she went through them, reliving the memories they stirred up, she allowed herself to weep . She knew Ginny had been right about her having to try to move on, so she was starting with the pictures. It might not have been a drastic course of action, but she figured the cathartic process would take time.

She was only halfway through when she heard a knock at the door. She was puzzled and wondered if it was Ginny had, in typical fashion, left something behind and was coming back to retrieve it. Briskly brushing her tears away with the back of her hand, she hurried to answer the door to reveal Severus standing there with his hands in his pockets.

When he saw took the sight of her flushed face and shiny eyes in, he straightened up.

"Who killed your cat?" The moment the words left his mouth, even he wanted to curse his own tongue off. He hadn't meant for it to come out so callously.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, tears welling up uncontrollably. "Look, I know what you're here for but you can go sod off. I'm not in the mood for you," she moved to shut the door but Severus held out a hand to stop it from slamming in his face

"Wait," he said loudly.

"Get lost," Hermione hissed, trying to force the door shut.

"I'd listen," he offered, effortlessly holding the door ajar.

She scoffed in derision. "We're not friends."

"I can pretend to be one."

Hermione let out an impatient huff and doubled her efforts to close the door but she was no match for him. _Where was her wand when she needed it?_

"Look," he implored, "if you want, you can always kick me out later."

Letting out an impatient noise, she gave up on trying to close the door and stood stiffly instead, hands aross her chest. "You know you're really not going to get lucky tonight."

A strange expression crossed his face, so fleeting that Hermione couldn't decipher it. "Funnily enough, I didn't come here for that tonight," he said. "I brought you something."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look.

"It's one of the books you said you wanted to read. I managed to find it among my collection and was only going to drop it off." In one swift motion, he held out a copy of _Beyond The Elements: A Comprehensive Examination of Advanced Transfiguration Techniques_ to her.

Hermione wavered momentarily before she snatched it out of his grasp with a curt "Fine" and stepped aside.

She left him on the couch to bustle about the kitchen preparing tea. When she returned to the sitting room, however, he was nowhere in sight. She set the tray with the kettle and tea set down on the coffee table and walked down the hallway to her bedroom where the light was on and found him in the middle of the photographs. Without a word, she settled down beside him and watched over his shoulder as he thumbed though the pictures of her and Ron.

A few minutes later, he paused at a photograph. "You look nice here," he said.

Glancing over his shoulder, she recognized it from a trip taken the previous year. Hermione herself, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, George, Angelina, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, Teddy and Charlie had gone to Sweden where they caught up with Molly and Arthur for the Quidditch World Cup.

It was the night of the finals between Ireland and Russia. Having been invited to sit in the top box, as well as anticipating a special event, the whole contingent had dressed up. They had just gotten settled with their programs and were chatting excitedly among themselves when the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had addressed the stadium.

"Good evening," his magically-amplified voice boomed. "As minister, I am pleased to welcome all of you to the match we've all been waiting for."

The crowd let out a thunderous roar.

"However," he continued, "before we begin, I hope you will grant a few moments for someone special to us all. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please spare a few minutes of your time tonight for Harry Potter."

The few hundred thousand other spectators had emitted a little collective gasp as a large shimmering sheet that was more air than solid appeared, suspended in the air in the middle of the arena, acting like a large-screen projection. It featured a close up of their group - prompting Victoire to let out a shriek and wave excitedly at the magical screen - before zooming in on Ginny and Harry, who had gotten down on one knee and pulled out a little box. He had already discreetly magnified his voice so that when he spoke, the entire stadium heard the carefully rehearsed speech he delivered with a slight waver of nervousness.

"Gin, we've been together for a few years now, but from the first few months of our relationship, I realized that we had something special - you are something really special. You are the strongest, funniest, most determined person I have ever known. You are the best parts of me and you inspire me. I want you to know that I love you more than life itself - I can't imagine living without you and I don't want to have to try. So, I'm asking you to grant me the greatest honor of being yours for always."

He paused to open the box, revealing a delicate band in white gold with a brilliant oval diamond set off by smaller sapphires on either side.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?"

Ginny, whose hands were clapped over to her mouth, promptly reached out towards him. "Yes," she said breathily, bobbing her head enthusiastically. "Yes yes yes!"

The crowd, watching with bated breath until now, dialed it up to deafening levels of cheering as Harry stood up and stepped into her open arms for a tight hug. After a few moments, Ginny had grabbed his face and kissed him right on the lips.

Blinding flashbulbs had gone off in their faces as they celebrated and several news papers had published double headlines the following day: the engagement of the boy who lived and Ireland's resounding triumph. A few weeks later, their old friend, Dean Thomas, a sports writer with the Daily Prophet, had owled her:

_Dear Hermione,_

_When I was sorting through the photographs from the Finals, this was among the lot. It's actually one of the outtakes and I thought you might like to keep it._

_Hope this finds you well!_

_Best regards,_

_Dean Thomas_

The photograph had been taken just moments after Ginny had accepted the proposal; she had been clasping one of Ron's hands in both of hers, when she had let go to start clapping in delight, her head thrown back in joyous laughter. Her face was alight with a jubilant glow.

"We were so happy," said Hermione softly. "I really thought we had it all."

"What happened?" asked Severus, eyes still on the photograph as he watched Hermione laugh exultantly over and over again.

"There was someone else," she stated simply, "and he didn't even have the courtesy to tell me himself."

Severus looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "That must have hurt."

Hermione was momentarily taken aback by the tone in his voice - Severus Snape was capable of sympathy? - but she recovered quickly.

"Very much," she assented. "We were each others' first loves - although I reckon I should have known it was too good to last."

"Please," retorted Severus. "Cynicism doesn't become you."

"It's true," Hermione insisted, the truth occuring to her as she spoke. "I wanted so badly for it to be real and for us to make it that I think I closed my eyes to a lot of things. I was naive and gullible and unquestioning and so happy just to be with him that I might have tried harder than I should have."

She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath before speaking. "Do you know he broke up with me in a letter? Sometimes when I get mail, I still feel apprehensive before I open it. It's ridiculous, but I've been avoiding written correspondences as much as I can."

The last part came out without her meaning to and she felt rather unsettled at having confided that piece of information in him. To cover her discomposure, she quickly reached for another picture and pushed it into his hands. It was another candid shot.

"This is from when we were still at school," she stated needlessly; their youthless faces and uniforms were giveaways. "Colin Creevey took this one night when we had had a particularly horrible detention with you. "

Severus' upper lip curled, reminding Hermione of when he had been her overbearing, sarcasm-spouting, point-deducting teacher and she said so.

"You're going to drag up those unpleasant memories too?" His tone was brittle.

She shrugged. "I think you're buying into your own hype."

"Hermione, I'm not completely nescient about what they used to say about me. I earned my reputation."

She fought the urge to smile and failed. "You're right," she relented, "you were an utter nightmare - the bane of the entire student population."

He scowled at her, but she had not finished:

"And yet, here you are. If it's worth anything, I think you've come a long way from that uptight, fearsome git I used to know. And now, dare I say it," she smiled up at him, "you're actually being quite nice."

Severus stared at her for a beat, blinked and looked away. "Well," he said shortly, "don't get used to it."

Then, he rose to his feet and headed out to the sitting room to pour himself a cup of tea. Hermione stared at his retreating back, unsure if she'd ever make sense of him.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's chapter 3 a few days early because I felt like it. (: Thanks for reading so far!

**Chapter 3**

24 November 2002

Ron,

I've sent all the things you left at my place. Sorry it took so long to return them.

Hope this finds you well.

From,

Hermione

* * *

25 November 2002

Dear Hermione,

Thank you for returning my stuff instead of burning it all and being done with it. I'll admit that it would not have been undeserved. I hope it's not too late to apologize and let you know that no matter what, you'll always have a special place in my heart...

Look, I really don't want things to stay awkward and would like to try and remain friends. If you can find it in your heart to ever forgive me, maybe we could meet for a drink again some time?

Love always,

Ron

* * *

27 November 2002

Ron,

I'm not making any promises, but I'd like to think that some day we could.

From,

Hermione

* * *

27 November 2002

Dear Hermione,

That's good enough for me. Until next time.

Love always,

Ron

* * *

28 November 2002

Dear Harry,

How are you? As you know, Ginny stopped by last week and the latest I heard is that you and Mrs Weasley have been quite the tag team with regards to the wedding arrangements. I'm pleasantly surprised at your involvement, although I must caution you not to incite a mutiny on the bride's part; I gather she's rather overwhelmed by it all.

I am so, so sorry for not writing sooner - and for having avoided you in general these past few months. I know you've been worrying about me but I've been reflecting and I promise I'm making more of an effort to move on with my life. In fact, I was thinking of visiting some time if you'll have me and we can catch up properly. Please let me know?

Love from,

Hermione

PS. Any luck getting rid of those Doxies?

* * *

30 November 2002

Dear Hermione,

So glad to hear from you. I was so close to breaking down your door, you have no idea. I'm doing great, and would very much like to meet with you soon. How does lunch at mine sound? I'll even get takeout!

Thanks for the heads up about the wedding. I guess I have been a little excited about it all. Seriously, though, pink roses versus white lilies - which do you think works better as a centrepiece?

Love,

Harry

PS. Not really, those blighters sure are a resilient bunch... but George has promised us some WWW product that works better than Doxycide so fingers crossed.

* * *

After reading Harry's letter, Hermione had to supress a smile. Everyone close to Harry had been surprised by his eagerness to cook despite his lack of proficiency - he had a tendency to overcook meats and undercook vegetables - so providing takeout was in fact a concession on his part. Grabbing a quill and spare bit of parchment from her desk, she scribbled a reply in the affirmative and hastily sent off her reply as an interdepartmental memo.

* * *

Hermione paused outside 12 Grimmauld Place, shifted the box of shepherd's pies from her right hand to her left and reached up a hand to hastily pat down her curls. Although her hair was much tamer than it had ever been during her school days, it was still prone to frizziness whenever she Apparated. Satisfied with her last-minute attempt at making her hair presentable, she gave the cream boatneck sweater she was wearing a tug, and knocked on the door.

"Hey Ha-," she started when the door flew open, and stopped. "Um. You're not Harry."

The handsome blonde man who answered the door threw his head back and laughed. "Well-spotted," he chuckled, "My name's Spencer - I work with Harry. I take it someone neglected to tell you I was invited too?"

"Uh," said Hermione, glancing down at the box in her hand.

Noticing her package, he looked slightly abashed. "How rude of me - please, let me get that... and come on in. Harry's almost done serving the food."

Hermione closed the door behind her and followed Spencer down the hallway mutely. What was Harry's friend doing here? She wondered if her best friend had something up his sleeve - something like blatant matchmaking.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Spencer said, "I was just kidding, by the way. I'm not actually crashing your lunch - technically. Thing is my landlord's kicked me out because his daughter was returning from Belarus to stay permanently and my place was her childhood home - sentimental value and all that - so Harry offered me a place to stay while I look for a flat."

As they reached the kitchen, he added, "I'll be upstairs, out of the way, so don't you worry."

Hermione didn't get a chance to reply just then; when Harry saw her, he put down the handful of cutlery he had just retrieved from a drawer and moved across the kitchen to envelop her in a warm hug.

"Hey," he said softly, "I'm glad you're here."

Hermione felt a rush of fondness and was suddenly really glad she came. "Me too," she whispered, embracing him back.

Spencer edged around them to deposit the box of pies on the table. Harry and Hermione broke apart just as he grabbed a steaming mug off one of the counters and made to leave the kitchen. Fuelled by a sudden surge of goodwill, Hermione invited him to join them. There was more than enough food to go around anyway; Harry must gotten carried away when he'd gone out to the shops that morning. There was battered calamari rings, a loaf of garlic bread and an entire leg of roast lamb. Spencer tried to demur but when she insisted that Harry and herself couldn't possibly eat that much and that she didn't mind the extra company, _honestly_, he accepted and set about arranging the mini pies Hermione had brought on plates.

To Hermione's surprise, she thoroughly enjoyed Spencer's company. Harry's colleague and temporary tenant was charming and friendly. Whenever he traded casual insults with Harry, Hermione found herself amused and laughing harder than she had in weeks.

Over the meal, she found out that although Spencer was a year younger than Harry and herself, and he hadn't attended Hogwarts. He had been homeschooled with the rest of his siblings, two older brother and a younger sister. He had been helping out at the family bakery until almost a year ago when he sent in an application to the Auror department on a whim. He had been called in for an interview, underwent a series of aptitude tests and within a month had found himself under Harry, his newly-assigned mentor. She also learned that like herself, he did not have an affinity for Quidditch. This prompted the the two of them to start commiserating about how seemingly pointless the sport was. They firmly agreed that reading was a more worthwhile pastime and began discussing the differences between Muggle and wizarding literature.

After a while, Hermione caught Harry eyeing the two of them with a calculating look on his face and narrowed her eyes at him. Immediately, he wiped the expression of his face and gave her a look of mock innocence.

Later, when the dishes had been washed and put away and the surplus food kept, Spencer firmly insisted that he had some magazines to get back to and left the old friends settled on the sofa in the parlor with Butterbeers. Harry leaned back into his seat and opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out however, Hermione jumped in:

"Harry! Don't think I didn't see that look on your face at lunch!"

"What look?" Harry tried to look as though he didn't know what she was talking about and failed miserably. "Fine," he conceded, "it's just that it occurred to me how similar you and Spencer are, and it's not a crime to make a new _friend_, is it?"

"Except that wasn't what you had in mind and you know it," Hermione retorted.

"All right," Harry conceded, "but Hermione, he's a really nice guy and you guys get along so well anyway and well - would it be so bad, really, just to give it a shot?"

She knew Harry with an Idea in his head was like a tenacious puppy in pursuit of a bone steak and would not take no for an answer so she said, a little huffily, "Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good. And just so you know, I'm on your side."

"What?" Hermione was confused.

"About things with Ron."

"Oh."

"I haven't really spoken to him since, y'know..." Harry trailed off, looking awkward, and ran his hand through his already-rumpled hair. "Mr and Mrs Weasley, too, in fact. They've refused to meet Ron's new, er..."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. "I'm not made of porcelain, Harry. You can say it: girlfriend."

"Er, yeah."

"Well that's nice, but Ronald is their son. They'll forgive him eventually."

Harry picked up on the edge to her tone. "But _you_ won't?"

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip. "I'm not saying I won't try... But right now, it feels like I couldn't yet, and it doesn't even matter what we've been through together. If he'd had the decency to break things off before starting things with that so-and-so, I'm sure I would have dealt with the fall out better. As things stand right now, I'd be content just to be nonchalant about all this one day."

"And I really hope you do find your own happiness soon. Although Ginny and I think he's made a huge mistake. I met her once, when she came to the Auror office to look for Ron and she seems like a real piece of work," said Harry. "You know - the possessive, jealous sort. Came off rather clingy, too. She's got nothing on you, Hermione," he said earnestly.

"Thanks, Harry," said Hermione, trying to smile, "but honestly, I think I'd rather not think about Ron or his girlfriend right now."

"Well, I'm sure all you need is a good distraction," said Harry. "Not a relationship though - I think rebounds are a bad idea; you and that banker didn't stand a chance."

Seeing Hermione's indignant look, he rushed on, "What I mean is - and honestly, I wouldn't know if there's any truth to it - but Ginny's mentioned it a quite few times: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

Hermione choked on the swig of Butterbeer she had just taken and sputtered, her face turning puce. Harry had hit right on the mark, and if she didn't school her expression right away, he would figure it out; he knew her too well.

She quickly reached for the tissues Harry held out to her and hid her face behind the wad as she tried to control her expression. She knew she was too late, however, when she saw Harry gaping openly at her.

"You have, haven't you?"

"I have what?" She tried to feign ignorance.

"Blimey!" Harry was astounded. "You, Hermione Granger, had a one night stand to get back at Ron!"

"So what?" She said defensively. "And what if it wasn't just a one night stand?" She blurted out, and wanted immediately to slap herself.

There was a beat of silence as Harry processed what she said, and then, "You mean you've gotten yourself a... a friend with benefits?"

"Um..."

"Hermione, that's great!"

"Oh... Er, what?"

"Look, whatever works for you - I'm not judging," said Harry earnestly.

Hermione was surprised. "Thank you," she said quietly. "And I appreciate the lack of judgement."

She suddenly found herself swept up into a tight hug. "Hermione, I just want you to move on, and above all, I want you to be happy. If having someone just to have meaningless - and hopefully fantastic - sex with will get you through this, go for it.

"It is," said Hermione when he released her, a lascivious grin stealing over her face. "Fantastic sex, I mean."

"Oh," said Harry his cheeks turning a little pink, "That's great but make sure you don't forget your promise, 'cause when you're good and ready for Spencer..." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Hermione grabbed a cushion and lobbed it at Harry's head. However, his reflexes were sharp from Quidditch and years of being an Auror; he deflected the cushion easily and grabbed another, tossing it back at Hermione.

"Oof!" She was too slow to react and the pillow hit her squarely in the face, setting the two of them off.

When their laughter had died down, she said, "I was looking through some photos and came across one taken at the Quidditch World Cup last year, right after you'd proposed to Gin."

Without quite meaning to, Harry broke out into a wide grin. "Yeah?"

"It just occurred to me that the proposal was rather more, well, public than you'd normally like, wasn't it? I mean, I know you and how much you loathe attention - you steer clear of the spotlight like it's dragon pox - so I was just wondering what prompted such a gesture."

"I'd wondered when anyone would pick up on it," he admitted, still sporting a grin. "Well, you know Ginny and I love Quidditch so much and it's always been a big part of our lives - especially Gin's. I wanted to make the proposal even more special so I thought I'd combine two things that mean so much to us, and now every time she thinks of Quidditch, she's reminded of that day and how much I love her."

"Wow," she breathed. "Who would have guessed it, Harry Potter: romantic."

"Hey," he protested, affecting an offended air. "You say that like I've never done anything thoughtful for her!"

Hermione laughed. "You have to admit, it's quite out of character for someone who's notoriously private though. Why, didn't I just hear from a colleague last week about that reporter who's been trying to get you for an interview? His quills mysteriously started writing only gibberish whenever he tried to use it."

Harry gave her a look of innocence. "I'm sure I don't know what could have caused Ebernard Glibly's quills to pen insults at him," he insisted.

"And how would you know they were writing insults about him?" She asked, starting to laugh. "Sounds a little like someone's been taking a leaf out of the Marauder's book when it comes to someone trying to stick their noses into other people's business."

"I did apologize to Snape for that among other things, you know," said Harry, suddenly contrite, and Hermione found herself attempting to look impassive at the mention of Severus's name. "I wrote him a long letter once when he was at St. Mungo's and another after he had been acquitted but the letters came back to me unopened."

Hermione shrugged and looked away, using her thumb to rub off the label on her bottle of Butterbeer. "If there's anyone more obsessed with staying out of the private eye, it would be S-, uh, Professor Snape."

Harry was too distracted by his thoughts to pick up on Hermione's slip up and her tone, which had softened slightly. He clenched a fist in frustration. "I just wish I knew where he was, though. I really want him to know I appreciate what he did and," he hesitated, before saying quietly, "I guess there are some things I want to know about my mother."

Hermione's heart ached for her friend and she reached out and put a hand on his arm. She knew that with the wedding approaching, and being around the family he was going to get more often, he couldn't help thinking more about the family he no longer had. Despite being aware that Lily Potter was a sensitive topic with Severus, she resolved to try and persuade him to get in touch with Harry. She figured it would be the least she could do to help Harry get some peace of mind.

Clearing his throat, Harry lifted his Butterbeer to his lips and drained it before standing up. "Want another?" He asked, gesturing to her bottle with the one in his hand.

"Sure," Hermione smiled at him.

Almost immediately after Harry had left the room, there was a tapping at the window. Hermione turned to see a handsome tawny owl blink at her from its perch on the sill. She got up off the couch and pressed her hands into her lower back, stretching to rid her shoulders of the knot that had developed before crossing the room to accept the missive tied to the leg of the unfamiliar owl. Having ensured the letter had been delivered safely, the owl promptly took off.

As Hermione walked back to sit on the couch, she glanced down at the letter in her hand and was somewhat surprised to see it was addressed to her. The handwriting was not one she recognized but before she could open it, Harry had returned, clutching a bottle of Butterbeer in each hand.

"Who sent it?" Harry asked, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto the table

"I don't know," admitted Hermione, unfolding what appeared to be a note.

It only took a glance at the content before she sat up straighter, her brow furrowing. Without a word, she passed the note to Harry, who read the single line scrawled across the little piece parchment:

"_I've got my eye on you_."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hello there. (: I hope you still with me! Here's this week's chapter; it's a little longer than the previous ones. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 4**

Every time the Yule season approached and it became imperative to venture into any of London's shopping districts, one thought would never fail to cross Hermione Granger's mind: navigating the shoppers crowd in December was either a very brave or foolhardy attempt. Hermione was always inclined to believe it was the former, previous House affiliation notwithstanding.

It was with great relief that she sank into a booth seat at her favorite chip shop hours later. For awhile, she rearranged her shopping bags and packages into some semblance of organization, all the while keeping an eye on the door for Luna and Astrea to arrive. Finally satisfied with her handiwork and since there was no sign of her friend, she opened the menu to peruse despite the fact that she had been ordering the same thing since she was eight: chicken nuggets to start, followed by battered haddock and chips with a side of baked beans.

She didn't have long to wait, however. No sooner than she had gone through the list of appetizers, she spotted Luna making her way over to her table clutching what appeared to be a huge swath of cloth to her chest.

"Hello, Hermione," said Luna, giving her friend a one-armed hug. "It's good to see you."

"You, too!" Said Hermione, as the two of them sat down. "Is that -?"

Shifting the bundle so Hermione could get a better look, a tiny face, topped by a shock of platinum blond hair, peered drowsily out.

"Yes, this is Astrea."

"Isn't she turning one in January?"

Seeing the look of confusion on Hermione's face, Luna smiled. "She is, but she's a little on the small side. She takes after her father when he was her age."

"And how is he?" inquired Hermione, as Luna settled her daughter in the pram she had just deftly unfolded single-handedly, and began tucking her daughter in.

"Draco is fine. He's still in Stockholm settling the move, closing bank accounts and the selling of the house, but he'll be returning with the rest of our things in a week or two."

Luna had been in Sweden where she had been searching for new specimens of a new magical creature she had found - Gnarklespurts. She had been there for a few months when Draco Malfoy moved into the same hostel, in the suite right across the hall from her. Within half a year of getting to know each other again as roommates, and the pair decided they liked each other enough and the lack of privacy in the hostel not so much to move into their own house. Draco had taken Luna out on a date one night, and Astrea had come along right on the anniversary of their first year together.

Hermione had yet to meet Draco in his capacity as Luna's partner and truth be told, she had her own misgivings. Despite this however, she maintained a polite interest whenever his name came up as Luna seemed happy enough with him. Now that they were moving back to England, however, Hermione had a feeling she would get to see for herself how much less of an ass he was than before.

Astrea slept throughout their meal, so Hermione had a chance to hear about Luna's sojourn in Sweden uninterrupted. Then, as Luna wrapped up her tales, her daughter woke up and started fussing and Hermione updated the blond on what had happened with Ron.

The way Luna Lovegood saw things, it was simple, really. The problem lay in the fact that Ron and Hermione never moved in together.

"Take for instance," she said, handing crackers to her daughter, "Draco and myself. The way his mother sees it, we've done it all out of order - moving in before we started going out - and maybe she's right. But the truth is, it was being in such close quarters that made us realize we were really quite well-suited for each other.

"I know everyone is concerned, Hermione, but he's a different person now. And you should see him with Astrea; he's a wonderful father," she said, turning to smile affectionately at her baby, whose pudgy arms were outstretched for more biscuits.

"May I?" asked Hermione, nodding her thanks at Luna as she took the package of animal crackers and began a game of 'Animal Herder', which involved making the cracker pretend to run around before 'running' into Astrea's open mouth.

"You're pretty good with children, Hermione," said Luna. "Are you still set on not having any yourself?"

Hermione couldn't suppress a fond smile at Astrea's excited giggles. "Well if they were all as adorable as you, Astrea, I just might change my mind," She said, tickling the baby under her chin and prompting another round of gurgling laughter.

Turning serious, she said, "Ron expected us to have children soon after we were to have been married, but I always said I wasn't sure I'd be able to juggle a career and a family and he'd accuse me of making excuses. But the truth is, I know it's possible...

"I don't know, Luna. I'm starting to see that maybe a part of me already knew Ron and I were not particularly suited and that it would be over sooner or later. Maybe I just wasn't ready to accept it yet."

Luna smiled. "I'm glad you're starting to see it that way," she said. "I always thought you wanted your relationship with Ron to work out so badly that I was worried that you would put aside your own dreams just to see it happen."

"In a way, I wasn't given that option - Ron decided that a relationship with someone else would work out better and left me."

"Everything happens for a reason, Hermione," said Luna serenely. "I think you just figured out what that reason was."

"I just wish the aftermath didn't hurt so much," mumbled Hermione.

"Pain always passes, given time," said Luna. "For now, I think you have other things to think about now anyway - the mysterious notes, being one of them."

Thinking about the notes she had received the previous week made Hermione frown slightly. A few days after her visit to Grimmauld Place, a second one had arrived while she was at work, bearing the same message. It was, if nothing, mildly annoying.

"I'm not worried, although that person should be," Hermione retorted. "When I find out who he or she is, I'm going to make the boils I gave Marietta Edgecomb back at school look like a freckles!"

"In case the person wishes you harm," cautioned Luna, "it can't hurt to be cautious anyway."

"You're right. I'll keep an eye out."

With that, the girls moved on to discussing other things - Ginny's upcoming nuptials among them - with Astrea siting comfortably in Hermione's lap for the rest of their rendezvous.

* * *

The following Friday, Hermione was at her desk at work, arranging her notes on a project she was overseeing in chronological order when she received another note - the third so far. Only this time, something had arrived with it: a lumpy object wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Her brows creased in annoyance, she turned over the parcel in her hands and realized it had been shruken down. It occurred to her that she knew someone who might be able to trace and identify the magical signature so she grabbed her purse and the note and made her way through the Ministry to where Auror Potter's office was.

There, Harry waved his wand over the bundle to check for jinxes or hexes, making it glow various shades of blue. When that revealed nothing, he began to mutter a string of words under his breath, his eyes squinting in concentration, while tracing a symbol Hermione realized as the rune for Dagaz over various points of the package. It seemed to be taking Harry awhile and she was beginning to fidget in the chair she'd conjured for herself. To pass time, she stood up and crossed the small office to a shelf adjacent to Harry's slightly cluttered desk. She reached up to retrieve an ochre clay vase that had a motif of a set of Quidditch balls before tapping the Snitch with her wand twice. The vase reverted into its original form, a bottle of Old Ogden's; Hermione thought her week, topped off by the latest delivery, warranted a stiff drink.

As she was about to uncap the bottle, the door to Harry's office flew open. Before she could Transfigure it into a vase or hide it, a familiar red head popped in, calling out, "Join us for lunch, Harry?"

Seeing his best friend was otherwise occupied and didn't look up at the sound of his entry, Ron Weasley turned to the other person in the room.

"Hermione - hi," he said awkwardly, stepping into Harry's office.

"Hello, Ron," she returned evenly.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out and Hermione tried not to bristle at his question. Realizing his gaffe, he amended, "I mean, it's nice to see you."

Hermione would have answered if not for the tall, slender woman wearing a cream-colored robe over a light blue bandage dress who brushed past Ron into the office. Catching sight of Hermione, the blonde beauty strode over without breaking stride, her right hand outstretched.

"I'm Ava Klyne," she said, as the women shook hands. Up close, Hermione could see her eyes were a beautiful shade of blue that she couldn't look away from. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you? Ron's told me all about his ex-girlfriend, of course." She glanced down at the Firewhisky that Hermione was clutching and continued, "He never mentioned you were prone to hard drinking, though. I mean, isn't it a little early in the day?"

The smile froze on Hermione's face and she briefly considered chucking the bottle in her hands at the back of Ava's head, as the other woman crossed the room back to Ron's side. As Ava wrapped her arms around his elbow, wearing a rather smug smile on her overly madeup face, Hermione's grip on the bottle tightened and Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I-I'm not - I wasn't," began Hermione.

Ava merely smiled knowingly before turning to Ron and asking him in a simpering tone if they could please go to her favorite deli for lunch. Just then, Harry looked up and tried not to grimace at the obvious tension.

"You just go ahead, Ron - I've got to go over some files for an urgent case I'm working on," said Harry, gesturing to the mess on his desk and trying to sound apologetic, although Hermione could tell he was glad to have an excuse. "I think I'll just grab something off the tea trolley later."

"Er, all right then," said Ron, giving Hermione an unsure glance. In that moment, Hermione said a prayer to whatever deity was listening that he wasn't going to - "What about you Hermione? What do you say to joining us for lunch?"

Hermione did her best not to appear incredulous and she thought her effort deserved an award of some kind. Ron could be insensitive sometimes, but surely even he knew that between dining with him and his girlfriend (who was staring at Hermione through slightly-narrowed eyes) and going full-throttle on a Cirrus 2003 - or whatever the fuck the latest broomstick was - with a blindfold on and her hands tied behind her back, Hermione would take her chances with the broomstick.

"That sounds great, but I'm swamped too and I think Harry's got the right idea," she managed to say neutrally.

"Shame," said Ava like she meant it, making Hermione reconsider throwing the bottle at her and maybe breaking her perfectly straight nose. "Perhaps some other time. Come on, Ron," she singsonged, taking hold of Ron's hand and fairly dragging him out of the room.

Ignoring the apologetic look Ron gave her over his shoulder before the door closed behind them, Hermione turned to Harry who held up his hands. "Like I told you," he shrugged, "she's a piece of work."

Huffing, Hermione flounced over to her chair and threw herself into it. "She's a _bitch_, is what she is," she snapped. She glanced down at the Firewhisky in her hands, but remembering Ava's snide comment about it being too early in the day, she banged the bottle down on Harry's desk.

"So any luck with that?" she said edgily, gesturing at the parcel Harry had been going over.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically, "I tried my best but the person didn't leave any magical signature. The person knew not to leave any magical residue behind that would allow us to track him or her. It's safe to open anyhow."

Hermione took the package from him and started to unwrap it, her heart beginning to pound in anticipation. When she tore off the three layers of brown paper, what she saw made her mouth dry.

"What is it?" asked Harry, leaning to get a better look at the mug Hermione was holding.

"I-It's a mug I got on holiday," she explained, turning it over in her hands, "the one I took with Ron just before we broke up. I got it from the bed and breakfast we stayed at, and it's been sitting on my mantel."

Harry looked skeptical. "Are you certain it's the same one?" He asked.

"Positive. The shop owner let me have it for half price because of the little chip on the bottom," she said, turning it upside down and pointing out the little flaw to Harry, who looked astounded at the revelation. "This means that that - little _shit_ has crossed the line. He's entered my house and violated my _privacy_!"

"I think you need to take precautions. Look, if you want, I can easily arrange for someone to -"

"No," said Hermione firmly, lifting her chin. "I'm not going to let this intimidate me. If he wants to mess with me, I'll let him have a taste of what he's in for when I find him."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione was steadfast, although Harry made her promise to send her Patronus for help any time at all. When Harry was satisfied with her assurance that she would send her otter if she ever heard so much as a bump in the night, she returned to her department.

When the tea trolley came around, she found she didn't have much of an appetite after all.

* * *

By the time she reached home that evening, Hermione didn't feel up to sending for her usual food delivery. Instead, as soon as she had kicked off her pumps and dropped her handbag by the door, she went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine, grabbed the fluffiest bathrobe she had from her closet and headed for her bathroom.

By the time she climbed out of the tub, the bubbles had long disappeared. She towelled off, got dressed in an old t-shirt and a worn pair of pajama bottoms, and poured herself another glass of Chianti, ready to stretch out on the sofa to finally read the book Severus had loaned her.

Looking at the cover, something seemed amiss. However, it was only when she cracked open the book did it occur to her what it was - the book was brand new. A quick glance at the publishing date confirmed that the copy in her hands had only been printed that year. _Why did Severus say it was from his own collection when he clearly bought this recently?_ she wondered.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned him, Severus appeared in front of the blazing fireplace with the telltale crack of Apparition.

Startled, Hermione sat up and gasped, "What are you doing here?"

Severus' expression twisted into what could be passed off as apologetic for him. "I thought you'd be out. I only wanted to drop off another book you wanted to borrow. It's Dark Curses of the Dark Ages," he explained, holding the tome out to her. "I'll be off then," he said, turning to Apparate.

Feeling unexpectatedly touched by his gesture and feeling some company wouldn't go amiss, Hermione quickly called out "Hold it!"

Severus froze in an almost-comical pose, his foot stuck out as if to take a step.

"Since you're here, you might as well stay," she said to him, "I've just settled down to read the book you left the last time and I'm sure I have some material you might be interested in, if you'd like to join me."

Severus appeared to think about it for a moment. "And if I do," he said slowly, "is there a chance I might end up in your bed tonight?"

Hermione quirked a smile. "That depends on whether we manage to make it that far... but you'd have to stay to find out, wouldn't you?"

Severus looked at her with hooded eyes and Hermione knew he wouldn't be going anywhere. Allowing herself a little smile, she gestured at the floor-to-ceiling bookcases behind her. As he was looking for something to read, Hermione summoned a second glass for him and filled it with wine.

When Severus had found an old herbology periodical to look at, he sat on the floor with his back against the sofa Hermione was reclining on. Just as he began to read, however, he was interrupted.

"Did you buy this for me?" Hermione spoke up suddenly, holding up the book she was reading.

Severus turned his head slightly so that he was looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. "If I did?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You didn't have to."

"I thought you'd want your own copy," he said simply. "It is, after all, an excellent book."

Hermione flushed, finding herself flustered and not really knowing why. "Well, thank you," she said, and immediately reverted her attention to her text.

They sat side by side reading in companiable silence, the only sound in the room being the crackle of the logs burning in the fireplace. When Severus let out a slight harrumph a while later, she looked up at him.

"This Theodore Gabbalot claims to have discovered two species of Sopophorus beans, but I know for a fact that that imbecile couldn't find his own ass with two hands and a map. He more likely sent whichever poor sod who had the misfortune to be his apprentice out on the expedition and claimed all the credit."

"How would you know that?"

"It may surprise you, but not many people wanted to align themselves with a suspected Death Eater in those days; when I was furthering my own research, I was almost forced to apprentice under him myself," he replied. "However, there was another herbologist who owed Lucius a favor and I worked with him instead."

"How Slytherin of you to pull favors instead of sticking it out with less than the best like the rest of us," Hermione said, a teasing note in her voice.

"Well surely making up one-third of the famed Golden Trio earns you plenty of favors," said Severus sardonically.

"It's still not fair to take advantage of it," Hermione insisted.

"I've tried to drill this into Potter's head time and time again, although it seems you have difficulty grasping the concept as well - a lot in life _isn't_ fair, Hermione." Severus spoke deliberately, as though explaining things to a particularly obtuse student.

"Surely you've heard that the reward of things you work hard for are sweeter -"

"Idealist," sneered Severus, but Hermione could tell he was joking from a glint in his eye.

Thrown by the sudden camaraderie between them, Hermione blurted out, "Severus, what are we doing?"

"Why, I believe we're getting to know each other," answered Severus like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not an idiot, despite what you'd like to think. I want to know why." She persisted. "The Severus I got to know would have waited out the evening - not bothering to talk to me - until he got some."

"Gods, woman, are you saying I've wasted my time tonight?" he said in mock-annoyance, then looked steadily at her before giving her an answer anyway. "Because awhile ago, a certain harpy I recently had the misfortune of getting reacquainted with pointed out that she and myself were not friends and since she's not completely horrible company, I've set about rectifying it."

Herione was silent for a moment, processing what he said before asking, "Why did you return after that first night we... you know."

Severus turned away from her and reached for his glass of wine. Instead of drinking it, however, he stared into his glass as if divining his answer from its depths.

Although he remained silent for a few moments, Hermione instinctively knew better than to push. She sat still, her eyes roving the face of her ex-professor, whose looks, she knew, had been constantly denigrated by his students and peers alike.

To her mild surprise, she realized she was beginning to like what she saw: his dark eyes, often narrowed to slits in concentration or condescension, were an attractive shape. His lips were a little too thin, but when they were adroitly doing unspeakable things to her, it hardly mattered, and while his admitted-large nose threw his features a little off-kilter, she thought it lent itself to a face that had character overall.

When he finally spoke, Hermione had almost forgotten what the question was.

"You remind me of somebody I used to know... I suppose I was drawn to the familiarity," he admitted, still not quite willing to look her in the eye.

Hermione hesitated, "Are you referring to Lily?"

Severus' eyes darted to her face before he became engrossed in staring at his glass again. "Actually, I was talking about myself - when I was younger... Although I'll concede that you and Harry's mother share certain similarities."

"Such as?" she asked. She knew Lily Potter was a touchy subject with him but her curiosity getting the better of her.

Severus levelled a look reminiscent of the ones he used to reduce many a Hufflepuff's knees to jelly at her before dropping his voice down to a husky whisper. "You know, I could think of a few other things I'd rather that mouth of yours be doing than ceaselessly flapping at me."

Hermione became acutely aware of her mouth going dry as she attempted to answer in what she hoped was a seductive voice, "And what would those things be?"

"Why don't you be a good girl and come over here so I can show you?" Severus suggested, leering at her as he set aside the magazine he had been reading.

Hermione shifted until she was pressed up against the side of his body and she could put her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a languous kiss. As their tongues danced sensuously, Severus slowly slid his hand up under Hermione's shirt along her spine, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. In response, she nipped his bottom lip. She felt rather than heard the low growl that Severus let out as he began to kiss her more aggressively, and he leaned into her forcing her to lie back into the sofa.

Just then, the fireplace began to sputter. Hermione sat up, instinctively pushing Severus off her and onto the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, hurriedly righting her hair and clothing.

"Hermione?" she heard an unfamiliar voice call out.

Hermione walked over to her fireplace and sank to her knees. "Spencer?"

"Hi, sorry to Floo call you so late," he said, sheepishly, "it's just that Harry and I were talking about our Christmas plans and he happened to mention how you'd take him and Ron to Trafalgar Square every year because you wanted to watch the yule carollers and see the tree. But since the thing with your ex and Harry being too busy this year, I thought maybe I'd go with you. To Trafalgar Square."

Hermione stared at him, her brain processing what she's just heard. "You mean you want me to take you out?"

"Um, yeah," Spencer grinned. "I mean, it's not a date, if that's what you're asking," he said quickly, "unless, of course, you're amenable to it being one, then I would love for it to be one, too."

Behind her, she heard Severus let out a snort from his spot on the floor when he had remained, but Spencer seemed not to have heard it.

Hermione paused, thoughts racing through her head. What was the harm in a date, really? After all, Harry had been hinting that he would set them up sooner or later and if she went out with his friend already, maybe he'd be off her back about it. Besides, she _did_ get along well enough with Spencer. It was worth a shot, at least.

"A date would include dinner, wouldn't it?"

"Uh..." Spencer appeared a litle confused. "I suppose so?"

Seeing the nervous look on his face, she grinned and put him out of his misery. "Well I know a few great restaurants near the Square," she said.

Relief washed over his features, and he broke into a wide grin. "That's great - I'll be looking forward to it! Um, I'll pick you up, then?"

Severus snorted again, and Hermione quickly answered to cover the noise, "Sure, that sounds great! Why don't you owl me the details?"

"Yes, right. I'll get right on that, and just let you get back to what you were doing... Thanks, Hermione. You won't regret it, I promise!"

Smiling at his enthusiasm, she shut down the Floo connection and returned to sit on the floor next to Severus who was sitting up and smirking.

"Desperate much?" he sneered.

"Severus!" she said reproachfully, "He was just nervous, that's all!"

Forgoing giving her an answer, he snaked his arm around her neck and began to pull her towards him. Moving out of his grasp, she snapped, "What are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow at her tone. "I believe we were interrupted earlier by that overeager pup."

"That _overeager pup_ happens to be someone I'm going on a date with soon."

"So?"

"Severus, I'm not doing this again."

"Don't be ridiculous, it's not a committment," he said, leaning forward and brushing his fingertips along the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

"It doesn't seem right," she said, although even she could hear the lack of conviction in her own voice.

Severus's hand came round to the front to caress her belly, dipping it so he was touching her knickers underneath every few strokes. "You know you'll have plenty of opportunities to reject my advances if that date actually goes well, don't you?"

"I'm not rejecting you," she protested, her already-frail resolve weakening.

"I know," he said smoothly.

In one quick move, he had her on her back on the floor, her pajama bottoms pulled off, and her knees pushed apart. Grinning ferally up at her, he lowered his head tantalisingly slowly and he slid his hands to push her shirt up until his fingers were over her breasts. Teasing her nipples, he began to lap the outline of her slit in agonizingly slow strokes.

"I think it's time for bed," she gasped, stilling his fingers and Apparating them to her bed.

They landed on her bed with her straddling him. Severus made to sit up but Hermione pushed him roughly back into the sheets and made quick work of pulling off her own shirt, undoing his trousers and yanking them off, leaving him to remove his own top. Bracing her hands on his chest, she raised her hips and allowed him to guide himself towards her entrance.

There was a pause during which their eyes locked but then Hermione suddenly lowered herself onto him and her eyes fell closed as she gasped into the darkness at the sudden feeling of fullness. She began to ride him in earnest for a few minutes, her eyes fixed on the headboard instead of his face, before he grabbed her and rolled her over. He pulled her legs so they were wrapped around his waist and held her face in his hands as he began to pound relentlessly into her, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Yes," she gasped when he hit that spot deep inside her, "right there right there right there."

It didn't take more than a few more thrusts before she felt the familiar tightening of her walls, signalling her impending orgasm. When she started to come, she clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder, her fingernails digging painfully into his back. Soon after, Severus lowered his head, letting out a low guttural moan into her neck as he thrusted even harder, his seed spurting deep inside her. Then, he rolled off so he lay on his back beside her. They stared up at the canopy of her bed trying to catch their breaths. After awhile, Severus spoke up.

"Granger," he said, unconsciously reverting to her last name, "I think you have some issues - not that I'm complaining."

"Oh, shut up. Just enjoy this while it lasts," she retorted, rolling so her back was to him and falling asleep shortly after.

When she woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, she realized he had already left instead of staying the night the way he usually did on weekends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

When Hermione got home from her date with Spencer the following weekend, she couldn't keep a smile off her face. She knew she probably owed Harry some thanks for having pushed his colleague in her direction. It turned out that they had a lot more in common than she had previously discovered. Over the course of dinner at an Italian restaurant, she had learned that both of them enjoyed camping, the theatre, Muggle literature, and shared a few favorite films as well.

As it happened, Helene Macmillan née Baker, Spencer's mother, was Muggleborn herself. She had raised her children determined to ensure that they remained in touch with their Muggle heritage. Spencer and all of his siblings had grown up on a steady diet of shows like Thomas & Friends and Postman Pat and, were able to utilize common muggle household appliances.

Then, when Spencer had been old enough to earn a few shillings from helping out with chores around the house, he had saved up enough to pay for the first movie he had ever seen. Although he had grown up in a magical household, nothing could detract from the magic that was ET. Hermione had laughed then, remembering watching the movie herself and being intrigued by the idea of a different world out there. It had been quite astonishing, at nearly twelve years old, to discover that a different world had actually existed all along. It had just been waiting for her to discover it.

Spencer also admitted that his favorite thing about Muggles was their automobiles. Although he usually travelled by the usual wizarding means, he owned a Volvo sedan that he would take out for a spin whenever the mood struck him. Hermione then recounted how Harry and Ron had flown to school in Mr Weasley's enchanted Ford Anglia when the barrier at platform 9 3/4 had kept them from passing through. Spencer had cracked up at the anecdote, lighting up his handsome face.

After Spencer had paid the bill, they left the restaurant and were walking along Regent Street through snow that was floating softly down. Then, in a fit of whimsy, Hermione stopped in her stride to try and catch one of the falling snowflakes on her tongue, paying no mind to the few people who were staring at her antics. When she succeeded in catching three in a row, she whirled around to see Spencer gazing at her with open adoration on his face. She had to admit to herself that after putting up with Ron's regular bouts of self-centeredness and Severus's tendency to be aloof, having someone who was openly smitten was a heady rush.

She smiled at him, her eyes alight with contentment, prompting two spots of color to appear in his cheeks as he grinned boyishly back at her. Suddenly shy, she turned away.

"Come on!" She called out, starting to jog away. "Let's hurry before all the good spots are taken up!" Without turning to see if he was on her heels, she headed towards the crowd up ahead.

A few seconds later, a familiar red blur rushed by her. Not having expected him to actually outrun her, it was only when the figure let out a shout of laughter that she realized it was Spencer.

"I thought you said hurry!" He called to her teasingly over his shoulder.

Narrowing her eyes, she broke into a full sprint after him. She wasn't any match for him, though. By the time she neared their destination, he was already standing behind a family of Asian tourists, his arms crossed in mock complacence. Then, too late, she realized she couldn't slow down in time and just when it seemed when she was about to crash into the tourists and give them a real holiday to remember, Spencer reached out and caught her firmly by the arms, bringing her to a safe halt.

Hermione had turned her face up to his and managed to gasp her thanks, striving to catch her breath. Spencer held her gaze for just a beat longer and her heart starting to pound a little faster. Unable to take the suspense, she turned away and pulled out of his grasp. To cover the little sidestepping, she made a show of scanning the area for better spots to watch the carolers from.

At the end of their evening, when they had been at her doorstep saying goodnight, Hermione had merely brushed her lips against his cheek as she thanked him for the wonderful time. She didn't understand her reluctance to kiss Spencer until she was about to fall asleep, the smile she wore finally fading away. Until she told Severus that she liked Spencer and would be going out with him again soon, she couldn't allow herself to kiss the Auror. Somehow, it didn't feel right.

Resolving to send Severus an owl the next day, she pulled up the covers to ward off the chill that was creeping in despite her extensive use of warming charms and fell asleep shortly.

* * *

Even though it was a Sunday, Hermione woke up at half past seven, got dressed and had her usual breakfast of slightly burnt toast and black coffee while she read the Daily Prophet. After perusing the journal - which was much admittedly better now it was under Kingsley's administration - she waved her wand and cleared the dishes, poured herself another cup of coffee and wandered into the bright, airy room she had designated as her office. She moved towards the window and stood leaning against the window frame, watching the sun rise.

As she observed the huge ball of fire gradually make its ascendance in the sky, the shadows in the street below shortening almost imperceptibly, she thought back to just after the Battle of Hogwarts when she had been standing alone near the edge of the grounds. Clutching a blanket around her shoulders, she had watched a pair of mediwizards hastening to the Apparition Point, a floating stretcher behind them. On it was a immobile body that, even from a distance, was obviously covered in blood; it was an unconscious Severus Snape. Hermione had figured out then that the Professor must have been alive after all, and the mediwizards were hurrying to bring him to St. Mungo's to have him seen to immediately.

Later, she found out with the rest of Wizarding Britain that an antivenin he had ingested before going to speak to Voldemort had saved him from dying immediately of Nagini's venom. When he was found by the Aurors going over the bodies looking for survivors, copious amounts of Blood Replenishing Potion had been administered to restore what he had lost.

Strangely, like Ron, she hadn't felt guilt at having left him for dead. Harry did, however, but Harry's remorse had been brought on and reinforced by the memories Severus had given him. On her part, she rationalized that it had been a war and there had been pressing matters at hand. Severus seemed to be of the same opinion; the one time she had brought it up with him was when they were sprawled on her cool kitchen floor, post-coitus. He had merely shrugged it off like it was of no consequence and rolled over so that he was on top of her, ready for another round.

Shaking off the past, she turned to sit down at desk so she could start on her letter to Severus. Once she sat down to it, however, the words wouldn't come. Everything that she mentally composed seemed too formal; it seemed rather inappropriate for the situation. _Then again_, she thought,_ what about this situation is appropriate? I'm shacking up with my ex-school teacher - one who had countless jokes made at his expense by my best friends, no less - and none of said friends know... Never mind that Harry still has some unresolved issues with him and I meant to speak to Severus on his behalf._

Realizing her internal monologue wasn't helping her case, she got up and wandered out to her living room, and picked up the second book Severus had brought her. Making up her mind in an instant, she decided returning it would be the perfect pretext for telling him in person instead.

It was only when she walking up the short garden path to his cottage that she began to doubt her decision to see him. A letter had seemed too detached but would he try to coax her into sleeping with him again? He certainly had no qualms about taking her when she had been with Klaus. _Be firm with him_, she told herself, _and don't enter his house. Just return the book, say what you came to say and leave_.

With that resolve, she knocked on his door. After nearly a minute there was no answer and she was beginning to wonder if she should have just sent a note after all. Just then, the door swung open and her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Squinting against the morning sun, a scowl on his face already in place despite clearly being more asleep than awake, was Severus like she had never seen him before. Sure, he had spent the night with her before, but he tended to awake before she did and would usually be dressed by the time she woke up herself. The Severus Snape standing before her had evidently gotten dressed in a hurry and in his somnolent state had put on his dark grey sweater backwards. In his haste to get to the door, he had also neglected to apply a charm to his pants for they were still wrinkled, and his hair was thoroughly disheveled, the left side sporting more kinks in them that she had ever seen. Even though his hair was greasier than usual, he managed to look -

_Endearing_, her mind supplied.

Swallowing, she started to speak, but Severus beat her to it.

"If you don't have a good reason for being here at this ungodly hour on a weekend," he growled, fixing her with a glare that was decidedly intimidating despite his drowsiness, "you better hope you can Apparate away faster than I can hex you six ways to _next_ Sunday."

Quailing a little, Hermione held up the book in her hand. "I wanted to return something."

He paused rubbing his left eye with a fist and fixed her with a stare. "You came to return a book," he said disbelievingly, enunciating every word.

"Er, yes," she mumbled.

To her surprise, Severus let out an impatient huff before stepping aside. "At least put on some coffee and make it strong."

Sufficiently cowed, she forgot her resolution to make her visit short and sweet and stepped past him. She turned to the immediate right where his kitchen was and after placing the book down on the kitchen table - one that had seen better days - she set about making a pot of thick, black coffee. After she had stirred about three quarters of the contents of the sugar bowl into his mug, she put it before Severus, who was sitting with his head in his hands. Only when Severus had imbibed at least half a mug, did Hermione venture to speak.

For the second time that morning, however, Severus beat her to it.

"I know why you're here," he said, his voice still gravelly. Hermione's mouth hung open for a moment, before she hastily shut it. "I take it last night's date went well?" he continued, sneering ever so slightly on the word 'date'.

Gathering her composure, Hermione took a deep breath and said, "Actually, it did. Spencer and I have a lot in common and we get along really well. I think I - I want to see where things with him can go."

"And you surmised you have a shot at a relationship after realizing all these commonalities... from one date?"

"Yes," said Hermione firmly. "I really think Spencer could be good for me."

Severus gave her a contemptuous smile. "Do you even know what you're looking for anymore, or is this another person to use as a distraction after your failed relationship with Weasley?"

At the stunned expression on Hermione's face, he continued, "I see I've touched a nerve with you. You know, I thought _he_ was desperate but it seems he's not the only one."

Hermione felt stung. While she hadn't expected platitudes or well wishes from Severus, she wasn't completely sure why this bitterness and cynicism was directed at her now. Hadn't they said to each other several times before that their shacking up with each other wasn't a permanent arrangement? She wasn't sure why he was lashing out. Surely he hadn't expected them to carry on indefinitely? With the ease he had come back to her house after the first time, she had figured she wasn't his first one night stand; it would only be a matter of time before he fell into another woman's bed and she said so.

His face darkened and for a few seconds, the tension grew so thick, Hermione considered just getting up and leaving instead of dealing with his dark mood.

"Just for your information, I don't make a habit of screwing around," he finally ground out, "In fact, I wouldn't even have fucked you that first night if you hadn't made a move on me."

Hermione stood so fast, the chair shot backwards a few yards. "_I_ _made a move on you_? I was so plastered that night, I could barely tell down from up! Besides, in case you've forgotten, you were the one who returned after that!"

"I came back with no expectations, and you let me in."

"What are you saying?" she cried. "That us sleeping together was my idea? My fault?"

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and sat staring stonily at Hermione, who was completely confounded by the turn of events. How did this manage to end up a blame game for who had done what?

"Here I was thinking we had actually become friends - but more fool me," she said.

"You said yourself that we weren't friends so spare me the bleeding-heart act," he replied, his upper lip curled in distaste.

"Fine," snapped Hermione.

She turned to go but couldn't resist a parting shot. "I must say that for someone who claims not to have any expectations, you're acting like I owe you something," she said coldly. "Just remember I don't need your friendship anyway, because that concept is obviously lost on you."

She almost missed the hurt that flashed in Severus Snape's eyes, but she had come to know him well enough and had caught it, knowing she had taken it too far. After the war, he had lived a solitary life and was an intensely private man - until they had run into each other. When their relationship, such as it was, had formed, he had eventually allowed himself to get close and had made the effort to let her in. She had gotten to know him better than most people, had seen his vulnerabilities first hand and knew forming attachments was something Severus never did - not after Harry's mother. Throwing his trust back in his face was a low blow.

"Severus, I'm sorry," she started, moving towards him with her hand outstretched, but he flinched and shifted away from her. His hands were pressed so hard on the kitchen table they had turned white; it was clear he was furious and was trying to restrain himself.

"Get out," he said in a low voice.

"Severus, I didn't m-"

"I said: get out," he repeated just as quietly as he turned slowly to look at her through a curtain of black hair. "I got the message loud and clear and I thank you for coming here just to tell it to my face, but you can leave. Now."

Blinking back tears that suddenly sprang from her eyes, Hermione headed towards the front door, half-hoping he would call her back. What was wrong with her? She had known his tendency to antagonize others - it was second nature to him to push others away before they had a chance to reject him - and while a part of her brain had recognized the signs, why had she risen to his bait?

When she reached the end of his garden, she couldn't help but chance a look at the house. The door remained closed - Severus wasn't coming after her. Taking a deep breath, she turned on the spot and disappeared in a whirl of Apparation.

* * *

Back inside her flat, she dropped onto the sofa, still fighting tears. She felt something poking into her back and shifted so she could pull it out from between the cushions it had been wedged. It was the copy of _Beyond The Elements: A Comprehensive Examination of Advanced Transfiguration Techniques_ that Severus thought she should own and had bought for her.

"_We're not friends_," came her own voice in her head, unbidden. It was their conversation from a few weeks ago. She remembered the reply he had given her: "_I can pretend to be one_."

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. They _were_ friends; she had just been too absorbed in what had been going on with Ron and everything else to see it. That morning, however, she had managed to undo all those tentative steps the both of them had taken with just one callous remark she'd made in the heat of the moment; it wasn't like her. Severus had been right after all, she was floundering and was only realizing it. She didn't know which hurt more: that for the first time in her life, she was lost - or that she had thoughtlessly taken down the person who knew her well enough to notice it.

Hermione curled into a ball on the sofa and let herself cry.

* * *

The following day, a Monday, was Christmas Eve and the start of the Yule break. Mr and Mrs Granger were already vacationing in Spain, and Spencer had left for Hamburg the night before to spend the holiday with relatives. Apart from Boxing Day which traditionally meant The Burrow was open to friends and family alike, Hermione would be alone for most of the holiday season.

She spent her morning on the floor of her living room, wrapping the last of the presents to be sent out as she hummed along to the Wizarding Wireless Network that was playing some Muggle Christmas carols. By afternoon, she had them all on their way via owls loaned from work, while her friends' owls came by to make their own deliveries. She carefully arranged the presents she'd received next to the fireplace. As she had been too busy to put up a tree this year - and seeing as she wouldn't be having any visitors anyway - she had decided not to bother.

She had just cleared away the leftover scraps of giftwrap and was settling down on the rug in front of the hearth with a cup of tea and some store-bought crumpets when a regal-looking eagle owl landed on the perch outside her window sill. Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the bird, and she waved her wand for the window to open so it could fly in. With a few strong beats of its wings, it came to a dignified landing next to her.

"You must be cold, Osiris," she said to the owl, gently brushing snowflakes off its head and back. "Why don't you sit by the fire for awhile? You look like you could do with a treat."

In response, the large bird blinked its orange eyes up at her and stuck out its leg so she could retrieve the parcel tied to its leg. When it had been relieved of its load, it let out another hoot and accepted the crumpet offered to it. After it had settled itself close to the fireplace, Hermione turned her attention to the gift it had brought. She tapped the parcel with her wand, reverting it to its original size and ripped away the wrapping paper, revealing what appeared to be an old book. Turning it over in her hands, she realized it was an old, thinner copy of Hogwarts, A History. She opened the cover and saw the inscription in a familiar slanted hand on the flyleaf: This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.

As she watched, a few lines of writing appeared below. _To an insufferable know-it-all whose tongue runs away with her, much like mine often_ does._ Happy Christmas 2002_. When she finished reading, it disappeared off the page. Experimentally, she closed the book and reopened it, prompting the postscript to rewrite itself.

Hugging the book to her chest, she recognized the present as the apology and peace offering that it was. Hermione felt strangely touched by the gesture. She decided there was only one thing to do. She got to her feet and went to her desk to hastily write a note to Severus. As she sent it off with Osiris, she hoped that he would accept her invitation to spend Christmas Day with her. Perhaps it would be their chance to start over.

* * *

A/N: This was a little shorter than my previous chapters, oops. More Severus in the next one! Take care all. x


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry this update is a slightly later than usual; I've been rather distracted with RL... and some online games this past week. *twitch* Anyway, I've just gotten this chapter back from my wonderful sister who doesn't ship SS/HG _or_ even read fanfiction but betas for me anyway - so here it is!

Once again, thank you so much for reading - and to the lovely reviewers without FF accounts, your thoughts and comments make me so happy and are very appreciated too!

It seems I've neglected to put in a disclaimer, so here goes: I don't own the Potterverse (although how _awesome_ would that be?). I only borrow J K Rowling's world and shake it up for a bit. (:

* * *

**Chapter 6**

If ever there was a time when it could be said that Severus Snape was charming, it would be on this afternoon - and the person who was getting closer to admitting it aloud was currently seated in the middle of her kitchen at the table with her hands wrapped around a glass of strong eggnog that Severus himself had whipped up. It was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Still, despite his muttered explanation that before Hogwarts, his mother had tried to make Christmas as familiar for her husband and that he was used to helping out, Hermione was nevertheless failing to hide the utter gobsmacked expression on her face at his efficiency in the kitchen and familiarity with Muggle Christmas traditions.

A few hours earlier, Severus had taken two steps into her house, gotten one look at her living room and shoved the fruit cake he had brought into her hands before executing a sharp about turn. Half an hour later, he had returned with an already decorated tree and he remained tight lipped when, wide-eyed, she asked where he'd gotten it from. He then reached into the inner pockets of his cloak and pulled out a brown drawstring bag which turned out to be filled with Christmas crackers, both Muggle and magical, and several Christmas stockings, some of which were filled. He then left her to arrange her presents under the tree while he'd gone to the kitchen and pulled out more shrunken packages which turned out to be a medium-sized turkey, potatoes and mince pies that he put in the oven to warm, stubbornly refusing to tell her where he'd obtained them.

At present, he was across from her at the table, in the midst of making pigs in a blanket from scratch - sans magic - and Hermione was stealing more than just a few covert glances at him as he worked. It wasn't so much the look of utter concentration on his face that kept her looking over from the book she had propped open against a jar of oatmeal raisin cookies Molly Weasley had sent, but the way his long, slender fingers coaxed the sausages into the triangles of dough. She couldn't understand how she had barely given more than a passing notice to his hands back at school as he'd demonstrated how to slice, chop or crush ingredients in preparation for a potion as watched them now, she thought to herself that the way his fingers moved fluidly were worthy of poems.

_Poems?_

The thought gave Hermione pause. _How much nog have I had to drink?_ she wondered, eyeing her mug suspiciously as though it had tipped its contents down her gullet while she wasn't paying attention. Deciding to slow down before she got too tipsy, she pushed her tumbler away from her and pulled the jar of cookies towards herself, causing the book to fall to the table with a dull thud.

Without looking up, Severus said rather sternly, "The food's almost ready, you know."

Hermione's hand hovered over the jar for a moment before she withdrew it and picked up her book again.

"Good choice," he smirked, looking up then and flashing her a one-sided smile before reverting his attention to the task before him.

Right then, it occurred to Hermione that she had never seen him smile before and that he was almost handsome when he did. Again, she paused mentally and gave her mug of eggnog an accusing glare. She had obviously had one too many.

"In that case," she said, "I'll set the table."

Picking up her wand from where it lay on the table next to the jar, she gave it a casual wave causing the topmost drawer in the cabinet behind Severus to open. Two sets of cutlery floated unsteadily over. Next, the cupboard doors over the cutlery drawers, revealing dinnerware. She was about to levitate them over when Severus stopped her with a mild-level glare.

"What?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"You want to summon a stack of fragile cutlery across the room in the state you're in?"

Hermione flushed. "Have I really had that much to drink?"

"By my estimation - which, I assure you, is always accurate - there would be less than a pint left in that jug and I'll hazard to guess it can hold at least four times that..."

"All right! I get the point!" She said, disgruntled, and stood up to make her way across the room to the cupboard.

"I have a better idea. Why don't you go ahead and freshen up," Severus suggested. "I'll have it ready by the time you're back."

Any protest she might have thought to offer died on her lips when he gave her another glare. It was a glare that brooked no argument. Letting out an exasperated huff, she turned and headed to her bedroom, towards the bathroom adjoined to it.

Looking in the mirror above her wash basin, she realised why Severus had urged her to freshen up. Some of the flour he'd sifted while making the pigs in a blanket had settled on her hair and her face. She looked ridiculous!

"And he didn't tell me!" She fumed to her reflection as she turned on the tap and began to splash cold water onto her face.

After drying off with a towel, she used her wand to Evanesco the flour in her hair and the layer of white powder on her shirt.

When she succeeded in returning her appearance to some semblance of orderliness, she stepped out into her room and realized that in her haste to tidy up the living room that morning, she had neglected to straighten up her own room. Figuring that Severus probably wouldn't be ready with the food and everything else for at least good fifteen minutes, she decided to make a quick job of putting her room in order. She managed it through both magical and manual means and by the time the smell of the food completely permeated her room, she had finished.

She was halfway down the hallway to the kitchen when she noticed the lights in the kitchen were off. In a response borne from the time she spent living on constant high alert when she had been on the run with Harry and Ron, she held her wand out, ready for combat. She felt surprisingly sober all of a sudden.

When she rounded the corner with her wand held before her, poised to fire off any offensive spells, she felt rather silly at the sight before her. Severus had doused the lights and lowered the blinds in favor of using the tealight candles he must have found in one of her cupboards. The candles had been placed around the table he'd set and the food was laid out among them.

Her breath caught in her throat. She turned to look towards the kitchen sink where he was standing. His eyes were on her and he wore an inscrutable look on his face.

"Severus?" She said uncertainly, "what is this?"

A look that Hermione couldn't decipher flickered across his face and was gone. "I just thought it would be nice, that's all. It seemed like something you'd enjoy," he said evenly.

Still unsure, she took a step forward, "I do, Severus. It's lovely, but..."

"Him. I know," he said, moving forward to stand behind one of the chairs at head of the kitchen table. "I just thought it would be nice," he repeated, pulling out the chair and gesturing for her to take a seat.

Remembering that they'd only just made up and not wanting to offend him, she made up her mind to take his word for it. She managed a smile and sat down obligingly. He moved to serve her and she allowed him to pour the elf-made wine that had also come from one of the packages he had brought, place a few slices of turkey on her plate and even ladle cranberry sauce over the portion.

After he'd taken a seat at the place adjacent to her and served himself, they began to eat, neither of them initiating conversation. The awkward silence prevailed until halfway through the meal when Severus said, "If you don't tell me the food is delicious, someone's feelings just might get really hurt."

Hermione couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. "I'm sorry," she exclaimed, clapping her napkin over her mouth in mortification.

At Severus' questioning look, she tried to explain. "It's just-" she laughed a little harder into her napkin, unable to go on.

Severus, who was seated to her left, appeared amused as he watched her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Go on."

Hermione managed to gain control of herself and she took a deep breath before attempting to speak again. "It's just - it's like taking someone to The Leaky Cauldron and asking them how the food is, then getting upset if it's bad." At this, she burst into another round of giggles.

Severus' lips quirked upwards. "I didn't say I would be offended."

Hermione subdued herself, as his words sank in. "Ah. And are you going to tell me who our mysterious benefactor is?"

"It's not a mystery. There is someone I'm - who is close to me, and she makes it a point to ensure that my house is adequately prepared for Christmas."

Hermione gave him a cheeky smile. "And what's her name?"

Severus picked up on what she was getting at and rolled his eyes. "Her name is Mrs Walsworth, she's nearing sixty and she works at an apothecary I own."

Hermione was thrown momentarily by the revelation of what he was doing for a living and she blinked a few times as she regained her bearing. "You own an apothecary?"

"Four," Severus admitted, "but none of the employees know they work for, well, _me_. As far as they know, the owner of Potions and Phials is a recluse with a strong passion for brewing. Mrs Walsworth is usually at the main one but she oversees the running of all of them. She's a very competent and organized woman; she could almost give you a run for your money."

Hermione smiled. "She sounds great. You're very lucky to have gotten her for an employee."

"She was my neighbor first," revealed Severus. "When her husband walked out on her and her daughter a few years ago, she needed to earn her own keep - her husband took all of their savings with him - so I offered her a job. She started out as an assistant but she proved to be more than capable and I let her take on more responsibilities; I made sure it was reflected in her wages. Her gratitude extends till now and she's a... strongwilled woman who has taken it upon herself to look out for me."

It sounded to Hermione as though Mrs Walsworth was another Molly Weasley.

"Still, how did you know to return with the food as well, in the first place?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't smell any cooking when I entered."

Hermione looked chagrined. "I guess sandwiches don't generally fill one's flat with divine smells," she said, gesturing to the food before them.

"You were going to make sandwiches?" Severus seemed to be torn between amusement and mortification. "I have to admit I'm surprised you would choose sandwiches and solitude over Molly's invitation to join her and her brood for Christmas dinner."

"Like I said, it would have been too awkward. It would have been too much for Ron and I, and it really wouldn't have been fair to him if I'd just shown up. And besides, this delicious wine is almost worth missing Molly's cooking for," she said, reaching for her wineglass. She tipped the glass towards him and took a sip. "Mrs Walsworth must have spent a fortune on this."

"Narcissa Malfoy sent me that," he said. "She sends me half a dozen bottles every Christmas."

Hermione darted a glance at him but covered her discomposure by taking a few more swigs. "Well, she does have good taste," she said lightly, replacing her glass and not meeting Severus' eye.

"Indeed."

"You must be good friends with her."

"I wouldn't call it friendship as such," he said, "but she's the only other person who knows my whereabouts and keeps in touch from time to time. I suppose that in her mind, I saved Draco and she feels beholden to me despite my reassurance that I did what I had to - nothing more."

"Or maybe she's a lonely widow looking for companionship."

Severus looked up sharply.

"If that had even the slightest notion of being true, Narcissa Malfoy would be barking up the wrong tree," he said. "Not only is the idea of consorting with Lucius' widow extremely distasteful, that woman can't hold a conversation even on pain of Avada Kedavra."

Hermione chortled and just like that, the ice was properly broken. They spent the rest of the meal making easy conversation. Severus let on that the tree had been a gift from Mrs Walsworth in an unyielding attempt to add some cheer to his home; she had already gone round to all his apothecaries to singlehandedly decorate all the shopfronts. Then, Hermione was curious about the business he had been running and he explained that what initially started out as a mail-order arrangement had turned into something more.

In the few months after his convalesence, Severus spent his time in his lab at home making particularly difficult or rare brews for other apothecaries. At the same time, he was looking for a way to get rid of the scars that Nagini's wounds had left, as well as promote nerve regeneration in the area. Then when he succeeded in inventing a salve that worked wonders, he saw the potential in it but instead of marketing it to the apothecaries, he decided to open his own, with Mrs Walsworth minding the store. Business began to roll in gradually and picked up steadily. Then, when simultaneously running the store and researching and creating his own brews became too much for the two of them to handle efficiently, Mrs Walsworth had suggested taking on more employees. As it turned out, his neighbor had proved adept at managing other people as well, and he had left it to her thus freeing up his time which he spent focusing on his brewing. Over time, demand for the quality potions he produced and a few other pastes he'd invented began to grow exponentially and Mrs Walsworth had been the one to source out locations and handle the acquisition of new stores.

Then, Hermione had wanted to know how he had derived his Scar Healing Salve and Nerve Regenerating Potion and when their meal had concluded, they carried their conversation over to the living room. Both were stuffed to the gills and content to sit with more of the elf-made wine Narcissa had sent.

A knock at the door interrupted them a few minutes later.

When Hermione opened the door, however, there was no one in sight. Thinking it was her neighbor's children playing a prank as they often did, she didn't think too much of it and was about to close the door when something caught her eye. It was a rather large, bulky-looking gift wrapped in dark blue paper. Upon picking it up, Hermione realized that the paper was covered in the same little logo printed all over as a pattern. She hadn't noticed Severus cross the room to stand before her as she nudged the door shut.

"When did you order this?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to Hermione's ears.

She looked up at him in confusion. "I didn't order anything. What are you talking about?"

Severus' black eyes met hers and it seemed for a moment as though he was trying to discern if she was telling the truth. Finally, he pointed to the present in her hand said, "This was sent from one of my apothecaries."

Hermione felt her gut squeeze and she went to put it on the coffee table. She knelt down to inspect it further.

"It's addressed to me," she said carefully as she took out her wand. "I think I already know who sent this."

As she waved her wand over the parcel to scan for any jinxes or hexes and to reveal if there were any cursed objects inside the way Harry had taught her, she briefly told Severus about the notes she had been receiving, the last of which had been accompanied by something taken from her own home. At this, Severus looked apprehensive.

"Perhaps," he said, "it would be more pertinent to allow me to check for any Dark magic or intent."

Giving him a curt nod, she sat back and allowed him to pull the package towards himself. Right before her eyes, his face took on a look she had never seen before and she was reminded that this man had once been a Death Eater and was a powerful wizard. As she watched, he pressed the tip of his wand into the package and muttered a string of unintelligible words. Suddenly, the package exuded a dark violet glow and the hairs on Hermione's arm and neck stood on end. She could literally _feel_ the magic Severus was using and it was unlike anything she had ever come across before.

After nearly a minute, Severus stopped and said to her simply, "May I?"

Hermione nodded again and Severus began to unwrap the package. To her utter bafflement, the contents revealed themselves to be peppermint, rose thorn, Ashwinder eggs...

"These are the ingredients for a love potion," snarled Severus, standing up to his full height and looking as fearsome as Hermione had ever seen, despite being dressed in a black knit sweater and pants and none of his old billowy robes.

"But why would someone send them to me?"

"It came with a message."

"A what? Where?" asked Hermione, who had missed seeing a note of any sort falling out of the package.

Without a word, Severus leaned over and gave a sharp tug at the wrapper so that he could lift it up to her eye level. There, scribbled across the inside of the paper were the too-familiar words, "I've got my eye on you."

In spite of herself and her nonchalance towards the previous notes, Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.

* * *

Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and tried not to let her teeth chatter too obviously as Severus seemed to make a real attempt at breaking down the whitewashed door they were standing before.

Just five minutes before, he had gritted out a terse, "Grab your coat," to her before grabbing hold of her arm and Apparating them both to the end of his garden path. However, instead of going towards his cottage like she'd half-expected, he turned and gave his garden gate a hard shove as he stalked off across the dirt path in the direction of the tudor-style house across from his. He pushed open the other garden gate as violently as he had done his and went around to the side of the house to the door Hermione was currently standing at the side of.

The door opened then to reveal a teenage girl with piercing green eyes that minded her of Harry's and wavy brown hair that she wore swept to the left. She wore a green dress that matched the color of her eyes over a pair of bright red leggings. Around her neck was a necklace made out of bits of gold tinsel, silver fairy-shaped charms and tiny red baubles strung together; it was a piece of jewelry that wouldn't have looked out of place on Luna Lovegood.

"Mister Snape?" She said, looking puzzled. "Wotcha doin' 'ere on - I mean, 'Appy Christmas,"

"Where's your mother, Jemima?" Snapped Severus, obviously not in the mood for pleasantries.

"Ma? She's in the attic lookin' fer sum'in. Should I get 'er?"

"Yes," Severus bit out.

"All righ' all righ', come on in an' wait."

Jemima Walsworth, who looked to Hermione to be about fifteen, stepped aside and let them in. Hermione stepped through the doorway into the welcoming warmth of a kitchen that was as homely as the Burrow's.

On the stove sat a large pot bubbling merrily over a small fire as a ladle that had been spelled stirred slowly through what smelled like chicken broth. The enticing scent of something delicious being baked wafted through the room from an old Muggle oven in the corner that had obviously been enchanted to work. As she moved towards the centre of the kitchen, the oven went off with a soft _ping_ and the door opened on its own. She watched as two trays of chocolate chip cookies floated over to the table where another batch of cookies were arranging themselves into a jar set in the middle of what looked like the remains of a Christmas dinner. It seemed Jemima had been in the middle of helping her mother clear the table and was putting away the leftovers when they had come knocking.

"Severus?" Came a voice from her right, and Hermione turned to see a woman who could have passed for Jemima's twin, if not for the streaks of grey running through her mousy-colored hair. "Jem said you were attemptin' to bang the door down like a pack of werewolves were at your heels. Whatever is tha matter?"

Mrs Walsworth caught sight of Hermione just then and made a clucking sound. "And who do we have here?" She asked, moving forward into her kitchen.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Mrs Walsworth," she said politely, reaching out to shake the friendly-looking woman's hand.

"By my stars! Hermione Granger?" Mrs Walsworth's handshake became even more enthusiastic. "Everyone in Wizarding Britain's heard of you, of course!"

"Er-" Despite meeting other wizards and witches who were awestruck upon meeting her, Hermione still hadn't gotten used to the attention.

"Severus has told me all about you, of course!" She said, smiling widely. "You're the one he-"

"Mrs Walsworth," growled Severus, causing the woman to whirl around. "Did anyone come into the store the last few days to purchase Amortentia ingredients?"

"What? Severus, surely you could at least let me make you and your _friend_ here some tea first." The emphasis Mrs Walsworth put on the word 'friend' amused Hermione; she was reminded of a few of her aged colleagues who, after her break up with Ron, had tried to introduce her to their own nephews or neighbor's sons... _Just to make friends, dear_, they always said.

"Madeline," Severus reverted to using the woman's first name; his patience was clearly wearing thin. "Please, just answer the question."

"All right," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips and appearing to think hard.

Jemima came into the kitchen just then. "'Twas on my shift when 'e came in, 'e did," she said, making a beeline for the stove. She peered into the pot before taking hold of the self-stirring ladle and lifting some of the broth to her lips for a taste.

"Can you describe him, Jemima?"

"'E was tall, broad-shouldered, handsome and mighty friendly too, if ya know what I mean. Kept up a flirty conversation as I got him the ingredients."

"Can you do better than _handsome_?" Severus' tone made Jemima stop and turn round to face him.

"'Course," she said simply. "But won' do ya no good, sir. 'E was wearing a Glamor. Y'know I have a knack fer sensin' these things."

Mrs Walsworth began to look alarmed. "What's the matter, Severus? Who is this man?"

"Someone who had better hope I never get my hands on him," he said in a quiet voice. Then, he addressed both mother and daughter, "It's doubtful he'll return but if anyone who seems odd comes in, can you be sure to put a Trace on their purchases from now on?"

"Sure, Mr Snape," answered Jemima. Madeline Walsworth gave a nod, still looking worried.

Satisfied, Severus said, "We'll be off, then," before turning to go without so much as a thank you or by-your-leave.

Hermione gave the woman and her daughter a wry smile and was about to follow his lead when she remembered her manners.

"Sorry to have disrupted your day, Mrs Walsworth," she said. "By the way, the food was delicious."

"Why, thank you!" The woman beamed. "I can tell you're a sweet girl, Miss Granger. Why anyone can see why he-"

"HERMIONE!" Severus bellowed from outside.

"Er, I'd better go," said Hermione apologetically. "It was lovely meeting you."

Outside, she had half a mind to admonish Severus for his abrupt departure when she saw the stormy expression on his face. Swallowing her words, she allowed him to lead the way back to his garden where they Apparated back to her flat the same way they came, with Severus holding on to her.

The moment their feet touched the ground, Severus headed for the kitchen and began to put away the rest of the food that was still out on the table.

Hermione watched him from the doorway with her arms folded.

"I'll just have these stored away for you and then I'll go," said Severus, his voice tense and actions jerky.

"Go?" Hermione blinked at him. "Severus, you're not going to let some anonymous person run, are you?"

"Run?" He snarled, whirling around so his back was her and he was staring into the kitchen sink. "_Clearly_, I've already been found. It's only a matter of time before the Prophet gets wind of my whereabouts! No, I'm not going to _run_ - I'm just going home to enjoy what will obviously be my last few days of peace."

Hermione couldn't help the sense of guilt that overcame her. It seemed her friendship with Severus had somehow caused him to be discovered and his intention of living in obscurity was about to become a thing of the past. While she knew where his anger was coming from, it seemed rather unfair that he would rather blow her off so he could be alone. She felt a pang. Just when she thought their friendship had been mended and they were getting back on track, her stalker had ruined what had started out as a lovely day.

While she briefly entertained the notion of persuading him to stay, she completely understood his wariness at the prospect of being under the microscope. Every now and then, a journalist would attempt to coerce her into giving an interview; it was especially worse whenever the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts approached.

"Fine," she said finally, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice as she turned to go back to her room. "Don't forget to take your gift with you on your way out."

"Hermione..." Severus turned around just in time to see her disappear down the hallway and she heard him swear under his breath as he started to follow her.

She stopped and swiveled to face him, trying to keep her expression neutral. "No, I get it. I hate this stalker and having my privacy intruded upon too. After enjoying so much anonimity, I can only imagine the dread you feel now, on top of everything else."

Severus came to a stop in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "It sounded like I was... angry at you, but that isn't the case. I knew that staying in the country, I ran the risk of being found some day. I just never expected it to come so soon. Still, I'll have to see that my house is warded further to discourage any unwanted visitors and I have sent out missives so my employees know what to expect as well, now that I expect journalists to come hounding not just me but the people around me." He gave her a pointed look. "In fact, maybe you have some things to consider yourself. This person stalking you clearly knows we're in touch and you'll need to think about your reputation when it comes to being seen with a murderer."

"But you were only -"

"It doesn't matter. There still are people who would see me lynched for Albus' death by my wand and you should consider this," he said, gesturing between the two of them.

"I don't give a damn, Severus. Half of the witches out there would love to see me fall flat on my face for supposedly breaking Ron's heart anyway - for all I know, the stalker is one of them. Us being friends isn't going to make much of a difference."

When Severus made to say something, Hermione beat him to it.

"I said I don't care," she said firmly. "You go ahead and do what you have to do, but I refuse for this to be the last I'll see of you."

They looked into each other's faces for a few moments, each waiting for the other to back down, but Severus finally relented.

"Stubborn Gyffindor," he said, his lips twitching. "I'll need the next few days to get things sorted out, but you'll let me make this up to you?"

Hermione gave him a brilliant smile. "I have just the idea. Spencer won't be back till after the first week of January. What do you say to going up to Hogsmeade to celebrate New Year's Eve? We can grab dinner and watch the fireworks after."

Severus hesitated.

"If you're going to be found out anyway, you might as well enjoy the excursion," she cajoled.

"Fine," he conceded.

"I'll see you at Aberforth's pub at half past eight?"

"Fine," he repeated.

Hermione's face lit up. She leaned forward and impulsively kissed his cheek. "I'll be looking forward to it," she smiled.

"As will I," said Severus, holding his hand against his face over the spot she had kissed him as though he wasn't conscious of doing so.

"Till then," he said, giving her a last look before Apparating away.

Anticipation filled Hermione's veins and she wasn't sure of the last time she had looked forward to something quite as much as she was now.


End file.
